Expect the Unexpected
by KandyHouse
Summary: Hanna was a happy person, despite his horrific past. Old memories run deep. When they stir, will Hanna survive the coming storm? Will his friends? Eventual Hanna/ ... and minor ConWorth. AU
1. Foreground: Before It's Too Late

The Author's Justification: This story will most likely be long and slowly build up to some amazing plot twist which I haven't thought of yet. Please be patient with me and this story. And especially the first chapter - I'm still not happy with it, but I decided to leave it alone and move on with my life.

Because Tessa Stone is a wonderful, amazing person, she updates regularly. Unfortunately, I am chomping at the bit as it is. So from here on out I will be guessing as to what Hanna would 'logically' do next, and Miss Stone will probably correct me with a superb comic. I suppose this will make this story an 'alternate universe' of sorts, where Hanna turns right instead of left, and this vastly effects the outcome of his life.

Disclaimer: Hanna is Not A Boy's Name belongs to Tessa Stone. Worship her.

* * *

Hanna Falk Cross couldn't quite believe it. The funeral had been almost unreal, even though he had sobbed until his eyes stung and his small frame shook with anguish. The adoption center was as real as it got, and his chances of being chosen were realistically slim.

The adoption center was very large, but also very crowded, and located near the heart of the city, just inside the business sector. A few blocks to the east was a wonderful library which Hanna visited as often as possible, and there was a park that they would go to on sunny weekends when it was convenient.

And life at the Haven for Orphaned Children wasn't too bad. Sure, Hanna had a few friends, but they were younger than him, and thus more likely to be chosen anyways. The younger, the cuter; Hanna, at nine years old and cursed with an unfortunate name, was quickly becoming incurably bipolar.

That fateful, fatal day when Hanna had been separated prematurely from his family was engraved in his mind forever. It was ghastly and ridiculous how normal an evening it was.

His parents had gone out for an evening by themselves, and Hanna – who was eight and a half, thank-you very much, and not a baby anymore – had been left home alone with emergency contacts and a microwavable dinner.

Dad had to convince Mom to leave – she was so worried, but then Mom had to convince Dad on the way to the restaurant that there really was nothing to worry about. It was the first time they'd ever left Hanna home alone and, although they loved him with all their hearts, they worried that his non-stop hyperactivity would get him in trouble.

The ride to the restaurant was terribly uneventful. When they arrived Dad suggested Mom call home, and was relieved to hear Hanna's indignant reply of, "I'm FINE, Mom!" Only then, with fears mildly alleviated, did the couple settle down to a relaxing dinner alone.

Later that evening at approximately 7:34 and fifteen seconds, Hanna found an urgent news report of a car crash on the television.

His longed-for cartoon show soon forgotten, he was riveted to the image of a somewhat distant, but achingly familiar blue car. Or the remains of one – it had been solidly t-boned by a large, black truck speeding through an intersection. A man and a pregnant woman were in the process of being pulled from the wreckage, but the current chances of survival were discouraging. And the driver of the black truck had been alone and already moved to the hospital.

Hanna sat back in a daze. When he did blink, it was slow and uncomprehending. Sure, that blue car that looked like it'd got in a fight with a herd of rhinos and lost _looked_ like their car, but there was no way. They lived in a large city, and there was some new statistic about their being more cars than people, right? The chances of it being Hanna's Dad and pregnant Mom being in an accident were…astronomical! They were both safe drivers! It just wasn't possible – it was unthinkable.

But Hanna watched the news with all his attention and focus. His eyes were stuck to the screen; the flashing of red and blue sirens from the TV spilled onto his reflective glasses. When the reporter just happened to mention the name of the road – Hanna scrambled for a piece of paper and something to write with.

He shakily reprimanded himself, but shoved the note into his pocket anyway. He picked up the phone and did the sensible thing, dialed the emergency contacts that they'd left for him. His Dad's cell phone immediately reported that "The Phone was Out of Order" and his Mom's just rang for minutes with no sign of there ever being an answer. Okay. Hanna called the restaurant next. A polite man told him that "Mr. and Mrs. Cross had left the restaurant some forty minutes ago."

Hanna thanked the man dumbly and let the phone clatter back to its resting place noisily. The last contact was a friend of the family, a Mrs. Galen that Hanna had never met, but both of his parents spoke of warmly as a good, honest person.

What time was it? It was now almost seven fifty-five. His parents were supposed to be home at eight o'clock. He would wait a little longer before making one last call. He plunked down in front of the news again and watched with undivided attention – like a moth drawn to candlelight.

"The two victims of this terrible accident have been identified as a Mr. Jonas Cross and his wife, Mrs. Josephine Cross. Mrs. Cross was pregnant, and the unborn child is also unfortunately dead. Their bodies are being taken to…"

And that was that.

* * *

Hanna forced himself out of that particular memory. It had become more and more difficult of late to stay in the dreamless state of meditation that he'd mastered. To everyone else it appeared like he was asleep; even Luther and Worth were fooled.

Hanna hadn't actually slept for nearly a decade, after the nightmares had become impossible to deal with. (He also didn't relish leaving his mind that vulnerable to anyone or anything). Even sedatives and unconsciousness could not force him to sleep – his body and mind had been rigidly trained to attain the perfect state of resting without slipping that one further step into the subconscious.

He often tried to review memories objectively for more answers during this meditative trance, but his focus had been slipping recently.

Oh well, he had been getting more cases too, and the stress would certainly affect him.

"_If you were not a cursed rotten hollow shell of a boy I would tear right through you!" _Hanna stifled the groan of frustration he wanted to loudly give in to. It was the morning after Casimiro had 'hired' Hanna to "draw her back out." 'Her' referred to Adelaide, the vampire that Hanna had freed from being permanently stuck in her bat form.

Even with the ultimatum of "do it or die!" hanging over his head, it was still an unexpectedly pleasant novelty to wake up and have someone else be there, with breakfast no less. But now he had to be even more careful with keeping up his 'sleeping' pretense.

After a brief inhale Hanna threw himself into his usual routine of 'waking up'. With a loud yawn and a mighty stretch he proclaimed that he was awake, and ready to take on another day! And he felt like it! His parent's death was something tragic, of course, but he had moved on. He'd accepted it. Hanna was moving on with life, starting over, and he was going to take the world with his overabundant enthusiasm!

Why do anything by halves? Why hesitate? Hanna couldn't afford to put off anything until tomorrow, his parent's fate had taught him to _live_ as never before.

Brushing away his introspective thoughts, Hanna focused on something much more important anyways.

His sense of scent was overwhelmed with the wonderful smell of waffles! He grabbed his glasses quickly from the floor beside him and the image before him fell into focus.

There was Samuel, removing a second waffle from the iron and plopping it onto the first one. A syrup bottle was materialized next to the plate and a fork as well. And not just the waffles were worth focusing on entirely – Hanna wasn't sure he would ever get used to his zombie friend caring for him, or even wanting to stay with him. It was a wonderful surprise every morning to remember that he was not alone.

Hanna wore a lot of clothes, all the time. If he was careful, he could wear a short-sleeve shirt and it would still cover up the runes permanently inked into his skin. He made sure to cover every scar and the evidence of magic on his body. He'd loathed having to reveal his torso of scars to Ajax, but it had been necessary to scribble some runes next to his stapled-up-chest for the paper-crane guide spell.

And truly, seeing Hector not-possessed and still a member of the living dead was worth the interrogation that was surely to come. Telemachus was withholding the questions, and Hanna was unbelievably grateful for it. He didn't like lying to his best friend, but telling the truth was out of the question – never going to happen.

Hanna happily flew to the tiny counter that counted as a kitchen work space for preparing food, and a table for eating at.

"Good morning, Botticelli! These waffles smell awesome – thank you so much!" And a quarter of a waffle – drizzled in blueberry syrup, was already inhaled into Hanna's mouth.

While reaching for another enormous slice of waffle, Hanna chanced a peek at his friend's expression. Hanna considered himself to be extremely friendly and outgoing – possibly to the point of being a nuisance. But he was loyal to a fault, and right now he was worried about Goethe.

"How are you feeling, by the way? Any side effects from the possession? Anything changed since the last time we talked?"

"No, I feel fine." Robespierre's voice was 'neutral', but Hanna picked up on the residual concern. Caedmon was still worried about Hanna's welfare, apparently.

"We'll visit Doc Worth right after I'm done with work!" Hanna finished the first waffle and inhaled the second one in a matter of minutes. Albert watched silently, as was his usual habit.

Or he was silent, until Hanna heard a dreaded question, "What about you?" And the way it was asked, too! Eugene looked worried, and Hanna hated to stretch the truth, but – it was for William's own good anyways.

"Right as rain! Nothing to worry about! I'm one hundred percent!" and with that overjoyed exclamation Hanna was wildly leaping off his chair and to the closet where he pulled out one of his favorite long sleeve shirts, a sweater to go on top of it, and a pair of jeans, and literally spun into the bathroom, quickly closing and locking the door behind him.

Walter sighed, but washed and dried the now empty plate and silverware. He returned the kitchen to normal, and had just slipped on his black overcoat and fedora when Hanna emerged from the bathroom. His friend's burnt red hair had been 'tamed', and he slipped into his only pair of shoes with a dazzling grin on his face.

"Ready, Iago?" And with that Hanna Cross swept from the apartment, and Bernard sedately followed after.

Julius had taken to following Hanna nearly everywhere, and that included walking his friend to work at the Comics-R-Us.

Comics-R-Us was an enormous store that was combination regular book store, and combination comics, manga, anime, and all the accessories that came with it, and combination restaurant. Comics-R-Us was also famous in town for its foreign food selection; no less than seventeen different country's cuisine was represented. And with the foreign food also came a wide variety of foreign books.

Raphael had been surprised to come in one afternoon and find Hanna perusing a book written in Russian. Hanna had deftly dismissed this by saying, "Oh I was just looking at the pictures!" and flipping through the book randomly before quickly setting it down.

Hanna was a mystery, a mystery Theodore desperately wanted to solve.

But with the day open before him, he decided to puzzle over his friend while doing a little grocery shopping.


	2. Foreground: A Matter of Trust

And here it is! This is where I first diverge from the webcomic, so from here on out it is Alternate Universe. But then again, it is called FanFiction for a reason. Anywho, please enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Hanna is Not A Boy's Name belongs to Tessa Stone.

* * *

After picking up Hanna from work at three in the afternoon, they hurried over to Worth's place.

Louis wasn't too surprised to see Worth in a terrible mood, looking like something that the cat had drug in. Meeting Lamont Toucey had been a surprise though, and the man's claim to have heard good things about him already. Who would've told Lamont these things? Hanna?

Arnold agreed with Hanna that any kind of check-up would be impossible with Worth in this hung-over state of grouchy misery. So it was that they went to investigate a liquor store, of all things.

On the walk over Philippe was careful to keep a close eye on his friend. The memory of Hanna trembling, nearly convulsing in on himself, before vomiting up a horrifying amount of blood had left a lasting impression on Xavier's mind.

If unsealing a cursed vampire had caused such a violent reaction in Hanna, then what effects could the paper-crane guide have? His appetite had been good this morning, and his hyperactive employer showed no signs of fatigue. Still, Algernon couldn't help but worry.

Hans hadn't expected to come across a liquor store at the address, but he found himself agreeing with Hanna's optimism. It could've been a haunted mansion.

While Martin had a largely uninformative conversation with the employee inside, Hanna unashamedly stalked Mr. Tibenoch.

"He definitely recognized the handwriting, but he denied it, then took off. But I got his license plate!"

"Isn't that practically stalking?" Darwin asked wryly.

"What! No – it's investigating!"

A smile spread across Benjamin's face at Hanna's reaction, and a warm feeling briefly flared inside his stone-dead heart.

But what was even more heart-warming was Hanna's joyous reaction to the smile. It was surprising to Oscar that anything he said or did could please Hanna as it did, but it was even more surprising that Gilbert would sometimes go out of his way to please Hanna.

"C'mon, let's get over to Conrad's before he gets any angrier!" and with that Hanna was off again, happily chattering away about Conrad, Veser, Conrad's dinner, and how late they were.

* * *

Veser had violently grabbed hold of Hanna's shirt and demanded to know _who_ they had talked to that could possibly be responsible for Lee Faulun's death.

At that moment Gordon was once again perplexed by the protective instinct that swept through him.

Fortunately, Veser visibly sagged as all of his anger drained out of him, leaving him looking tired, young, and guilty.

"I have to get revenge for Lee." Veser explained wearily, "I just have too."

But Hanna knew better. Revenge was great all the way up until you had that person in your clutches, and you suddenly realized that it was never black and white; that every person was a shade of gray, and what would more death accomplish anyways? And what would come afterwards?

Hanna's grin was sudden and overpowering, and he yanked Veser into a one-sided Hanna-Hug (trademark).

"Don't worry about it man! You hired me to find your mom's seal skin, and that's what I'm gonna do!" The Hanna-Hug was proven to disarm bombs and diffuse tense situations faster than any other method.

Veser was almost blown over by Hanna's happy assurance, "But…I can't even pay you."

"No problem! Let's just say you owe me a favor, OK?"

Johann sighed. Sometimes he had to agree with Casimiro; Hanna really was running a paranormal charity.

"Aaanyways, we'll try again on Friday. I have a great idea – if it pans out, that is, you wanna come with us on Friday?"

"Absolutely – what's the plan?" Veser asked aggressively.

"Right now I'm just waiting to see if a contact can help me find Mr. Tibenoch; Friday is the night we investigate." Hanna paused, then, "Right now, it's time to do some vampire hunting!" Hanna pumped one hand enthusiastically up into the air.

"What-now?" Conrad exclaimed, almost spilling the packet of blood he was slurping from.

"Hmm…okay maybe not tonight. It would be really nice if we could get Toni as back-up…But I have a plan, so don't worry! Sorry, Connie, but we'll need to, um, use you as bait since ya'know, you and Adelaide have a connection."

Conrad sighed, finished the packet, then tossed it in the trash. "Figured." He muttered glumly.

"What can I do to help?" Veser asked, looking to Hanna. Veser looked full of angry, destructive energy.

Hanna scrunched up his face in thought, "Welllll…does being half-selkie give you any special powers?" he asked.

Veser shook his head, "Not that I know of. I don't turn into a seal in ocean water…and I can't breathe water or anything."

"Hmm…" Hanna had his own suspicions concerning Veser's mysterious lack of selkie-powers, "Conrad – can I borrow a shirt from you? Something you've worn recently and haven't washed yet?"

"Why?" Conrad glared suspiciously at Hanna, looking very hesitant.

Hanna beamed even more, "I just wondered if I can do it using your smell and not have you actually be there in person!"

"Well…Okay…" Conrad disappeared into another room briefly, before returning with a black vest.

"Perfect!" Hanna chirruped! He pulled the liquor bottle out of the paper bag and traded Conrad for his shirt, carefully putting it into the brown paper sack. "Alright! G'night everyone!" Hanna waved goodbye before abruptly dashing out of the apartment. Caesar followed without saying goodbye.

Hanna was unusually quiet on the walk back to the apartment. Rudolf decided not to question his friend, as Hanna wouldn't answer anyways if he'd decided to keep quiet.

When they were nearly back to the apartment, though, Hanna stopped.

"Heinrich, we're friends, right?"

"Of course."

"And Toni, Conrad, and even Veser, they're our friends too, right?"

Pierre wondered where this was going, "Yes."

"Let's say, hypothetically speaking, that I was thinking about capturing Adelaide by myself…"

Felix tensed, and his intense orange eyes bored further into Hanna. His response was immediate and stern, "We're here to help you, Hanna. Don't try to do this alone." _I won't let you _was silently tacked onto the end of that sentence.

Hanna was silent, and the hunch of his shoulders betrayed the turmoil inside.

Edmund wasn't sure what to say, but he timidly put forth a question that was soon to be the bane of Hanna's existence.

"Trust me?"

Hanna melted on the spot. "Of course I trust you!"

Hanna struggled for more of a response, but it wouldn't come to him. His trust of his zombie friend was like a rule of the universe, gravity, an immutable fact, an ingrained reflex. The words had leapt from his lips before he even had to think about it. Only Worth and Lamont had earned that kind of trust before.

Early on Horace had wondered if all of Hanna's smiles were genuine. It seemed impossible that anyone could smile that much and be honestly happy and overjoyed all the time. But over the short time he'd known Hanna, Victor had realized that _all_ of Hanna's smiles were in earnest. The blinding grins that took up half of the red head's face, the amused smirks, and the small, self deprecating smiles (which Jurgis loathed).

But this was the first time Elias had seen this particularly hesitant upward twitch of Hanna's lips. It was subtle, vulnerable, and real.

"Heh he heh. Listen to me, Blaise, talking like some…" Hanna paused, but didn't finish the thought, "Let's get home, OK?" And just like that Hanna shifted gears back into his usual hyperactive spazz, "Ya'know Toni still owes me a dinner as payment. I think our group should get together and talk strategy. I'll call Toni and the others tomorrow after work...how do you feel about Hungarian? Mexican? Jamaican?"

"I don't eat." Vincent replied, still gazing concernedly at his friend.

"Yeah, but you can smell, right? I guarantee that Jamaican food smells especially good, not to mention this Thai place I know…"

* * *

Short and sweet, but the next one is longer, I promise.

{Insert heart-felt plea to Review here}


	3. Foreground: Sunny Days

Author's Note: Expect fewer updates as school approaches, sorry! But at least this chapter is longer!

Disclaimer: Tessa Stone owns Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name. Definitely not me.

* * *

Hanna loved being a Paranormal Investigator. Sure, maybe he _wasn't_ very good at it, but that didn't matter. He had actual friends now that cared about him! It was amazing!

But as much as he loved his night job, he still loved working at Comics-R-Us. The store was incredible, the staff was kind, he was a respected employee, everyone worked together well, and most importantly – the food was outstanding.

Hanna ate lunch at Comics-R-Us, which hosted exactly eighteen different food stands, each specializing in a particular country's most (in?)famous foods.

Variety was truly the spice of life. Unfortunately, garlic was also a spice used in several of the kitchens, and Conrad was a bit turned off by it. Or maybe a lot.

Still, with a wide assortment of amazing food and drink, their group happily settled down to discuss plans.

"Okay! So the basic idea is to use Connie as bait – and when sassybat arrives I'll contain her in some runes." Hanna explained, happily munching on…something Max couldn't identify.

"You have magic that can hold her?" Toni asked between slurps of her fruit slushie.

"Yeah – it's easy! My idea is to condense the air around her into an impenetrable shield, and turn the ground beneath her into steel or something. Then maybe throw some garlic in there with her for good measure."

"Will you vomit blood this time?" was Solomon's solemn, quiet question.

"What – no! Don't be silly! Unsealing a cursed vampire was some pretty heavy stuff, but capturing her will be like way easy."

"Wait a second," Conrad began, "You knew she was cursed, and you freed her anyways?"

There was a moment of accusatory silence as everyone – minus one zombie – stared at Hanna.

"I didn't know she was cursed until I started the spell…"

"Then why didn't you stop?" Veser asked bluntly.

"It's technical – the rules-of-magic-and-all-that-jazz-but-anyways,"

"Tell us, please." Stefan used his insufferably caring and worried tone of voice. Hanna just couldn't say no to that face! Damn his compelling orange eyes!

"It's complicated," Hanna tried to avoid his zombie friend's imploring stare. Damn it!

"So dumb it down for us mere mortals." Veser demanded, frowning.

Hanna sighed in exasperation. "It's – It's like this…a certain amount of energy has to go into initiating a spell, a rune, whatever. And unless it's worded carefully or there's some kind of loophole – which usually just makes the spell weak and easy to break apart and useless anyways – then the caster has got to sort of finish it or at least redirect that magic. Get it?"

The appearance of Worth loudly slamming his plate onto the table interrupted the conversation.

"Worth, you made it!" Hanna happily exclaimed, thankful for the distraction.

Worth loudly pulled up a chair and sat down, looking grouchy, "What the damn kid is tryin' to avoid sayin is that once ya start a spell, you've got to see it to some kind of end. Period."

A few tense moments of confused silence passed before Worth further explained, "In the worst case scenario, the spell drains too much energy, it contaminates the blood of the caster, and you die."

"Don't talk like that, Worth! Magic isn't some evil corruptive sin against nature," Hanna started to defend his magic, but Worth quickly interrupted him.

"That's exactly what it is, Hanna!" Worth shouted over him.

"No it's not! You couldn't possibly understand what it feels like…it's like an old friend…Or a sword! Just like a sword is supposed to be an extension of the arm, magic is just an extension of myself! And my runecasting isn't like that, anyways. I built it to work on different principles."

"You made your own magic?" was Toni's impressed question.

"But Hanna, after I became a vampire…you reeked of death…How can that be healthy?" Conrad put forth hesitantly. Worth shot Conrad a hesitant, tiny smile, a thanks for defending his argument against Hanna.

"Like I said, I didn't know Adelaide was cursed. Helping any old regular vampire out of bat form would've been a walk in the park." Hanna gloomily ate his food at a sedate pace. (This alone worried Cassius.)

"Did you have anywhere in particular in mind for this trap?" Toni asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Hanna's face lit up again, "Yes! There's this great warehouse that I've been saving for an occasion like this…"

* * *

Conrad gulped nervously as he stood next to Hanna and Milo inside the warehouse. The place was deserted, ominous, and dimly lit. The floor was dusty dirt, and Conrad scuffed it nervously with his shoe.

Only Hanna and Marco stood beside him. Worth was parked a half dozen blocks away, and his van was filled with medical supplies. The dirt had been smoothed over the runes Hanna had drawn into the floor. 'Marco' hovered protectively next to Hanna's shoulder – had been all evening – and the orange glow of the zombie's eyes was both unnerving and reassuring.

Hanna had carefully drawn an intricately complicated array onto the palm of his left hand with a fine point magic marker. It had been pulsating, glowing vividly purple and then dimming to nothingness, for the past fifteen minutes.

As the numbers on Conrad's digital watched turned to eleven o'clock, Adelaide arrived.

She had flitted swiftly into the warehouse like a shadow, and this time she was wearing a long green dress with large, voluminous sleeves and a hood on the back. Her purple-black hair swirled around her as if stirred by a non-existent zephyr.

Her voice was a purr, but her body language screamed hostile intentions, "You called?"

Little to her knowledge, she was now standing just inside the rune meant to trap her.

"Yes, I had a favor to ask of you, in return for getting you out of your bat form." Hanna replied, his voice eerily calm.

Adelaide hissed when she saw Andrew holding the hammer that had been previously gouged into her back. She took one step backwards, lowering herself into a defensive crouch. She was in perfect position.

Without hesitation Hanna sprung the trap.

It was fast. It happened so quickly Conrad was thankful he hadn't blinked, or he might've missed it.

A turbulent wind went surging through the warehouse directly towards Adelaide. The gale curled around her like a rose bud, then froze solidly in place. The devastating winds were suddenly still and impenetrable.

It was like she was trapped inside a glass flower.

And with another surge of magic, the runes on the floor glowed white, and the floor of Adelaide's prison was turned into sand.

Sand.

Conrad found himself stumbling forward in transfixed fascination.

Only Herman's strong grip kept him firmly rooted in place.

Adelaide was suffering the same overpowering wonder.

Sand…there was just…so much of it. It was infinite. But no – that was impossible! Abstract things like life, death, and time – those things were infinite. Vampires were nearly immortal, they were nearly infinite too.

But the sandy floor of her prison was not infinite – Adelaide was more than just sand! More than just a clay body without a soul, without feelings and humanity. She could prove it; she would prove it!

With a shriek of despair she collapsed to her knees and began counting the grains of sand.

It was impossible. It was pathological; it was unstoppably engraved into the mind of every vampire: the fear of being finite, of being struck down, and of what would come afterwards for them.

The thought that such a thing as mere sand outliving them was unacceptable, and it had to be proved once and for all that the floor of her cage was countable, was finite, because then it could be proved that it had a limit – but Adelaide, she was limitless, immortal, and she could spend another eternity counting every particle of sand just to prove she was!

Conrad felt the urge too, to count the sand. It was just _wrong_, deep inside him, to even contemplate the idea that something as dumb as a beach, or a sky, or a field of grain could be more immortal than himself.

He found himself hissing in agitation and pushing Roy's restraining arm away.

"Conrad," Hanna's weak voice was just above a whisper, "Mr. Conrad Achenlak."

Both Conrad and Dwight focused on Hanna, who was trembling where he stood.

And now that the spell of the sand was broken, the overpowering stench of death infused the room. Conrad would've loudly gagged and cupped his hands over his nose, but…he didn't want to worry Hanna or the zombie. Hanna was wavering wear he stood, but he wasn't vomiting up blood, so Conrad figured Hanna wasn't in serious trouble – yet.

Conrad couldn't help but notice the almost involuntary step the zombie made towards Hanna, before he apparently remembered himself and tightened his grip on Conrad.

Adelaide shrieked again. "Don't look at her." Hanna warned, and this time his voice sounded stronger.

Conrad took a good look at the red head. Hanna was still trembling, but otherwise he looked fine. Until he fell flat on his butt on the ground.

This time Thomas did jolt forwards and quickly knelt besides Hanna. Conrad was unhappily dragged along, as the zombie didn't let go of his arm, which was starting to ache at the strong grip.

"You can let me go now!" Conrad said irritably, tapping the zombie's hand.

"I'm fine, Alphonse. Conrad, don't look at her, OK? Then you should be fine." Hanna's voice was still a little strained sounding, and Conrad noted that the zombie was still staring intently at the red head.

"He said you can let go!" Conrad whined, pulled away from the zombie, who let him go without a glance away from Hanna.

"I'm fine, really, Donald. One hundred percent." Hanna moved to stand, but the zombie placed a hand on his shoulder, so he just sat back down once more.

Conrad jumped out of his skin when Adelaide shrilly howled again, but he didn't turn around to see that she was actually tearing at the sand like a creature possessed.

"Conrad, call Toni and Veser in, it's fine now." Hanna said, taking in deep, shaky gulps of air.

Conrad called Toni's cellphone, and a few moments later the two ran in through the back of the warehouse. They had watched the back of the building in case Adelaide had tried to take them by surprise, and Hanna had written runes on them to mask their scent.

"Whoah." Veser summed it up. Toni and Ves stared at the glass flower – made out of condensed wind, and the flailing, growling vampire that was pounding at the sandy floor of her prison in a pathological fear.

A sudden commotion drew their attention to Lloyd and Hanna.

"Gimme my marker back, An-t-tony! I need to call Casimiro and Finas!"

Calvin gave Hanna a pointed look.

"I'm fine!" the red head insisted.

"Conrad, call Worth." Rodney calmly instructed.

"What! I told you Bartholomew, I'm just a _little_ tired, but it's n-nothing to worry about! This was a cake walk!"

Conrad had to agree with 'Bartholomew' on this, Hanna was still too pale and shaky; and the slight stuttering: so not a good sign.

Conrad spoke into the phone, "Worth, Hanna's weak from the spell, but we have her." A brief pause as Conrad listened to Worth's response. "Shut the hell up!" Conrad shouted back and clicked his phone shut loudly with another curse.

Two minutes later Worth showed up, carrying a large white satchel. He walked past the furiously writhing Adelaide like it was an everyday occurrence.

He knelt beside Hanna, glanced at him, then pulled out a glowing, green test tube.

"What, Worth, are you going to turn me into a mut-t-tant with that stuff?"

Joseph leaned closer to Hanna, and kept his gloved hand resting on the red head's shoulder.

"This here will counter the tainting effects a little." Worth explained, shaking the glowing green tube vigorously. It glowed even brighter in response.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy asked, voice actually sounding concerned. Conrad was surprised to hear any inflection in the tone at all. Hanna's condition was clearly worrying the zombie, and all his other friends, for that matter. They had gathered around the weakened man anxiously.

"Just the usual; magic takes a lot out of you…sort of." Worth uncapped the tube, and handed it to Hanna.

"What is that stuff – like, an elixir or something?" Veser asked, eyeing the test tube.

"In a manner of speaking…" Worth was suddenly very tight lipped, and it was clear to Conrad and to the zombie that there was more to it that Worth was refusing to tell them.

It was also clear to everyone that Hanna couldn't drink the damn stuff by himself. He was shaking too badly, and a bit of its glowing green contents sloshed down the outside.

The zombie reached out with his other hand, wrapping it gently around both Hanna's and the test tube, steadying his grip. With a tenderness that surprised everyone present, Clinton carefully helped Hanna to drink the 'elixir'.

When it was finally all drained away, Hanna's quivering stopped. "T-thanks, Zapiro."

Hanna carefully stood up, and brushed some dirt off his pants. He glanced towards the caged and wailing vampire who was cursing the sand.

With a deep breath he focused onto his left palm, and to the array that had summoned Adelaide. He shook his left hand back and forth like he was erasing an etch-a-sketch. And to everyone's surprise, the complicated pattern on his hand simply faded away.

"Marker, please." Hanna held out his hand, and Neville finally returned the hostage-marker.

Without further ado Hanna promptly began to scrawl an intricate array onto the palm of his left hand. The black lines of ink spilled over his skin in mesmerizing patterns until Hanna finished it off with a bold line across the middle.

"Okay," Hanna held up his palm, and the rune burned red and lit up Hanna's face sort of creepily.

* * *

"F-Finas…someone's walking on my grave…" Casimiro shuddered, his bat wings convulsing.

Beside him, Finas was also shivering. "We are being summoned." He ground out, before wheeling around in the night's dark sky and flying off in a southeastern direction.

Casimiro followed, confused. How did Finas know that? But he agreed, as they continued to fly southeast the shudders grew less and less.

"Who is it?" he asked the larger, darker colored bat.

"I don't know, but they are calling us with magic."

"I hope we get to fight, I've been aching to kill something…"

They smelled Hanna before they saw him.

"Dear God, what is that stench?" Casimiro screamed, absently circling the warehouse-pinnacle of the terrible, rotting smell.

"Some human has corrupted their blood with magic." Finas explained.

"A human?" Casimiro paused in thought, "Do you think it's Cross? That can't be, he's just a shell –"

"There's only one way to find out." Finas pulled his wings in suddenly and dived towards the building. Casimiro followed, growling.

They alighted in human forms just in the doorway of the abandoned warehouse.

The sight that befell them was shocking. Adelaide was caged, she was shrieking like a banshee, although neither Casimiro or Finas could see why.

"Don't look at her!" A familiar voice shouted.

"Why the hell not!" Casimiro yelled back, and he thought the voice belonged to Cross.

"You'll get trapped in the same spell she's in!"

The two vampires carefully walked past her to the small, rag-tag group of metaphysical beings. Casimiro recognized all of them except for the man in the white fur coat.

"Mister Cross, I am impressed. And I don't give praise lightly." Casimiro hissed, "How did you manage to capture Adelaide? And is that rotten stench coming from you?" He noted with anger that once again the zombie was standing protectively at Cross' shoulder.

"Drrp, yes, I probably don't smell like a pocketful of posies right-now-but-anyways, and Adelaide is cooperating because-because she's counting sand." Hanna explained nervously.

Casimiro was surprised to feel Finas twitch behind him. "S-sand?" the larger vampire questioned, "She's counting ssssand?"

"It's why I didn't want you to look at her, or else you guys might've gone crazy and started counting too."

Finas glared dangerously at Cross, "You are very knowledgeable for a mere boy, Mister Cross."

"So…what are you two going to do to her now?" Toni asked, glancing from the writhing Adelaide back to the two vampires.

"We're going to stake her, then tear her apart, then burn her, then burn her ashes, then take what's left and scatter it in a field of garlic cloves…or maybe hawthorns…I haven' decided yet."

A long moment of silence passed while the group stared at Casimiro's deadpan and blunt reply.

"Seriously?" Veser asked.

"If you wanna watch, feel free to stick around. Ready, Fin?"

"Aren't you forgetting something, Cas?"

"No, what?"

"Payment."

"Oh yeah!" Casimiro spun back around to face Hanna and reached into his brown coat. He pulled out what appeared to be an old pocket-book of sorts. The vampire further glanced at its contents, before removing a large stack of bills from it and handing them over to Hanna casually.

"Holy shit!" Hanna proclaimed, leafing through the big stack of one hundred dollar bills.

"Shit, that's a lot of money!" Veser added, "Lemme see one!"

"No way sharptooth, _you_ don't have a rent to pay!"

Cas turned away from the scene to meet Finas' approving gaze. He rolled his eyes (Finas was really a big teddy bear), then happily cracked his knuckles.

"Hey Cross – let down the shield! Fin, you got it?"

Finas pulled a mallet and hawthorn stake out of his overcoat. Hanna gaped – who carried stuff like that around in their pockets, seriously? Then he mentally slapped himself when he remembered his own magical hammer, which he frequently carried with him.

"You hold her down, I'll stake the bitch."

"Let me get rid of the sand before you guys get trapped too!" Hanna knelt quickly to place his right hand on the ground, and suddenly there was another glow of white on the prison cell's floor. The sand disappeared, replaced with plain, dusty dirt.

"Are you two ready?"

"Ready, Mister Cross."

With another silent command and an accompanying white glow, the windswept petals unfolded. Then hurricane-strength winds promptly fled out of the warehouse, knocking everyone down except Finas and Casimiro. The building shuddered and the dusty floor clouded the room hazily.

Before Adelaide had even a moment to compose herself or realize what was happening, Finas had her pinned to the ground. Casimiro drove the hawthorn stake directly through her frozen heart without remorse or even an instant of hesitation.

Adelaide's surprised gurgle of agony was cut short, however, when Finas brutally ripped the beautiful vampire's head off. Casimiro laughed insanely and pulled one of her arms off. The two vampires tore her apart in less than thirty seconds.

Casimiro pulled two tall, narrow flasks of _gasoline_ out of his coat's pockets. He emptied them out onto the mangled body parts, and Finas pulled two more similar flasks out of his own coat and did the same.

Despite the brutality and grisly nature of the scene, Hanna couldn't help but wonder, _Are there coats like a Tardis?_

They both produced lighters and bent to set Adelaide's remains on fire. She was ablaze instantly, and the sickening smell of burning flesh made the others want to vomit. The fire greedily ate her up.

"Good riddance, bitch." Cas said by way of a eulogy.

It was over in less than a minute.

Conrad threw up. Worth was standing by with a pill and a bottle of water astonishingly quickly.

"Unless you want to hang around and watch all night, I suggest you children run along home now." Casimiro dismissed them contemptuously, and he leered over the bonfire, cackling again.

"C'mon, guys, there's nothing more for us to see here." Hanna wearily stood up and walked out the back of the too-warm warehouse quickly.

"Fuck." Veser glanced behind him at the warehouse, shivered, then quickly looked away. "Fuck." He repeated for good measure.

Worth was expressionless and silent; he wasn't going to share whatever was on his mind.

Boccaccio was walking besides Hanna, asking if he was all right.

"Right as rain." Was Hanna's lackluster reply. The red head shook the other summoning circle off of his left hand slowly.

"Hanna, could you take the rune off of me?" Toni asked politely, hoping that giving Hanna something to do might help; the red head looked a little out of it.

Hanna smiled, and it wasn't forced – it never was – and approached Toni. She raised her right arm, where the simple rune had been drawn. Hanna poked the rune, and it evaporated just like that.

"Hey man, you all right?" Veser asked, nudging a still sick-looking Conrad.

"I'm fucking fine. Just a little shook up at seeing a vampire getting torn into bloody fucking pieces and lit on fire!"

Worth snapped out of whatever personal reverie he'd been in. "Baaww, poor little Connie's an orphan now that yer sire is dead!"

"She wasn't my mom, bastard, and what the hell is with that s-s-sand anyways?"

Expectant glances went to Hanna.

"Hey, Ves, let me get that rune for you."

Ves had boldly asked for his scent-masking rune to be in the middle of his forehead. Hanna had laughingly told him that having any sort of magical rune that close to the brain was suicidal, and drawn it on Ves' hand. With a simple poke, the rune vanished off of the half-selkie's palm.

"So, the deal with the sand is…Vampires don't like being reminded they're not really immortal. And so they try to prove they're not by counting all the grains of sand; it's like conquering nature, I guess. Proving that they're above it, that they're more powerful and immutable than a beach."

Hanna shrugged through the explanation like it was common knowledge, "I've always wondered if the Count from Sesame Street was inspired by this, but I'm not sure…"

"Sesame Street?" Conrad shouted, "How did we get to Sesame Street?"

Veser burst out into hysterical laughter. "I can just see Conrad! W-with purple skin and the monocle –"

Toni giggled, it was breathless and hitching, maybe a little too loud, "Vun, tuu, vree, vour, vive, vix –"

"Seyven, ate, niyne, teyn, eleyvun, twhulve," Hanna took up the count, laughing, chuckling, the happiness bubbling out of him.

"Enough!" Conrad shouted angrily, "I don't sound like that!"

"Twhulve glorrhius nhumburs, voo-hae-ae-ae-ae!" Veser cackled out a 'typical Dracula laugh'.

"No no no, it's like this," Hanna took a breath, then properly demonstrated, "Vooh-hah-hah-hah-"

"Twulf iz dah nuhmbur of ze dae!" Toni cackled out her own vampire laugh.

Worth's own imitation of a vampire laugh was so creepily accurate it caused everyone minus Jacobus to double over into seizures of chuckles.

"St-stop it-it," Conrad's face _broke_ into a smile and he laughed uproariously, "Thurteen, forehteen-" he stopped to laugh again.

When they reached the van, Alf was the only sober one amongst them.

"C-Chan yew drievv?" Worth asked, laughing hoarsely (practically inhaling his cigarette) and mangling his already butchered Aussie accent with an overlay of Transylvanian.

"Only stick, not automatic." Austin's serious reply sent them all into fits.

"Verie guud," Worth handed the keys to the zombie, who unlocked the doors and then settled into the driver's seat. Worth took the passenger seat, and Conrad, Toni, Vesser, and Hanna crammed into the long seat directly behind them.

"We're not going anywhere until everyone's buckled up." Keith's face softened with amusement. It had taken him a minute to understand that his friends all appeared to be drunk off an adrenaline rush, and were now happily chortling their fears away.

"Yezz, zir!" Veser tried to buckle up, but his hands kept slipping and he couldn't stop laughing!

Conrad managed to belt up by holding his breath – it didn't occur to him that Vampire's don't actually breathe. After the click of his safety belt, he burst out into rushing chuckles.

Hanna and Toni supposed the fact that they were all almost hyperventilating might've been worrying in another time and place. But right now the fact that they couldn't even breathe for laughter was something to laugh about too.

They shared a seat belt since the two were the skinniest, and somehow this involved all four of them in a tickle fight.

When all were safely buckled up Zachary started the van, put it in gear, and they were off to Toni's dorm first. Toni was twenty, a freshman in college (going for a degree in music or something), and had two other female roommates.

Toni wriggled out of the seatbelt without unclipping it, much to the consternation of the three friends who she crawled across – under any other circumstance Ves would've made some kind of joke about this, but he was too giggly and sleepy.

Erasmus made sure Toni was let into the dorm before driving onward to Conrad's apartment. The insane giggling had ebbed away, only to be replaced with utter exhaustion.

Conrad and Vesser stumbled up into 'their' apartment, occasionally bursting into laughter for no reason at all, and then suddenly yawning.

And then there was three.

Or rather, two, as Hanna promptly claimed the entire back seat as a bed and was fast asleep.

"Hey zombie, go to Hanna's next, I'm good to drive now. Kid looks tired."

Raymond agreed, and drove in the direction of 'home'.

Once they parked in front of Hanna's apartment complex, Mark climbed out and around to the side of the van.

Worth staggered over to the driver's seat and lit another cigarette. He watched suspiciously as the zombie carefully unclipped Hanna's seatbelt, then lifted him up and out of the van. Maybe it was the way the zombie gently rested Hanna's head on his shoulder, or how his usually expressionless face had softened into…something else, but, Worth found himself raising an eyebrow and asked The Question.

"You sweet on 'im?" he asked, flicking his sharp and pointy gaze from the zombie's surprised orange eyes to Hanna's sleeping face.

"I-I – I -uh," it was the first time Worth had actually heard the zombie stutter, and figured he'd hit a nerve.

The undead man continued, sounding a little more sure of himself, "I feel I have to protect him…" he murmured, his orange eyes lighting up his green face and Hanna's as well. It probably wasn't the best answer, but the zombie couldn't describe it himself.

He had no memories of previous feelings, and wasn't sure he could trust himself to tell the difference between 'protective', 'brotherly', 'friends' and the other, more romantic feelings he'd only heard of.

Besides that, he couldn't even remember if he'd been gay or bi in his past life. As a zombie, he'd never put much thought into it at all. Any possibility of a romantic relationship had died when he'd woken up as a member of the living dead. After all, he couldn't reveal to just anybody that he was a reanimated corpse! And more than that, he hadn't had a friend to stick with during his ten years of wandering.

Hanna had been the first person who welcomed him into his home without question and seemed actually thrilled about meeting a zombie – especially one that wasn't trying to eat his brains.

But just because they were startlingly easy friends, and just because Hanover felt a strange, inexplicable urge to protect Hanna, did not mean he was falling for the read head.

The only thing he could compare his feelings to was the brief spark of obsessive love he'd felt from Lee's ghost, but that wasn't what he felt for Hanna. Maybe obsessive protectiveness, but that was pushing it.

"Hmph, well, it's a start." And with that Worth drove off into the night at a ridiculously dangerous speed. And he told Hanna to be careful.

The zombie quickly walked up to number three hundred and six in an introspective daze. Upon entering he laid Hanna down on the mattress, pulled off the red head's shoes and glasses, and covered him with the blanket.

It was well past midnight, and Hanna still had to get up for his job tomorrow morning.

The undead man settled back for another sleepless night of trying to sort out his own thoughts.

* * *

{Insert well-written guilt trip to Review here}

{This space intentionally left blank}


	4. Foreground: Itsy Bitsy Spider

Author's Note: The beginning of this chapter earns the "T" rating, I believe, for violence. Other than that...school looms ever closer.

Disclaimer: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name belongs to the dazzling and stupendous Tessa Stone.

* * *

Five-year-old Hanna screamed and bawled.

His young mind couldn't handle the waves of pain that crashed through his feet and up his legs – he was drowning in it, and no one could hear him crying over the breakers.

No one could hear him crying because of the _silence_ that had been cast onto the little scene.

A stranger, a woman of asian appearance, knelt in front of him; she was the center of the pitch black nightmare Hanna was drowning in.

Her face was shockingly beautiful and pale. She had unbelievably long hair that pooled like black silk curtains around her face, down her back, and onto the floor. She wore a simple black gown that Hanna had never seen the likes of before, but it had spider webs sewn onto it.

And she was carving an "X" into the bottom of each of his feet.

She had four daggers, and each one made one cut on his foot, so that all four of them had tasted his blood and produced an "X" on each foot.

Tiny little black spiders rapidly crawled around and around his feet – Hanna shouted and cried – but then he realized they were wrapping their silken strings around his feet. Like bandages. He still shouted and cried.

The woman shuddered, choked, and grasped desperately onto Hanna. "We are sorry! We know you will never forgive us, but we want to try to justify this to ourselves. Please try to understand – if we did not collect blood from you, _they_ would have killed our whole family." She paused, and Hanna hated her, but, but, but – she continued, "Please understand that if it was just a choice between our death and you, we would've willingly died, but our family…"

"It hurts," Hanna wailed. "Please, stop!"

"This will help." The beautiful woman held up an enormous, horrifically ugly red spider. It leapt off her hand and landed on Hanna's nose. It was even more hideous and terrifying up close. Hanna could see the individual hairs on its legs, could see its nine beady red eyes staring back at him.

He screamed until his lungs begged for oxygen.

The spider's disgusting legs tip-toed across his skin until it reached his neck. Its fangs glistened, and then plunged into Hanna's skin like a knife through butter.

The pain suddenly vanished.

Hanna once again struggled to move his arms and legs, to try to escape, but he couldn't even feel them.

The woman pulled the cobwebs off of his feet; the open "Xs" which had previously been weeping blood were already scarred over. The blood stained webbing evaporated in her hands.

She stood up, "Please, forgive us!" And she vanished, taking the four daggers covered with Hanna's blood with her.

Hanna blinked.

And suddenly he was outside, face down in the gravel of his preschool's playground. The slide "he had fallen off of" towered high above him.

Grown-ups rushed to help the sobbing, terrified child. He spoke of spiders and pain and blood, and this upset the other children, so they took him inside and offered him candy and a warm drink.

Hanna didn't stop crying for hours, and Dad rushed over directly from work to comfort his son. And in Dad's arms, Hanna knew he was finally safe from the spiderlady, because his dad was the most wonderful person in the world next to his mom, and he knew they would never let anything bad happen to him.

But later on, when Hanna insisted they look at the "Xs" on his feet, they could see nothing. There was nothing wrong with them at all, no horrible scars or blood.

"It was just a bad dream, Hanna dear," Mom said, snuggling him tightly. Dad had his arms wrapped around the both of them, holding them all together.

"But we'll thrash that spiderwoman if she ever comes near you again, OK?" Dad reassured, and Hanna believed him.

Hanna tried showing various people the scars on his feet, but no one could see them.

And if he screamed and cried like a little girl whenever he saw a spider, well everyone else hadn't been through what he'd been through. They could never understand.

* * *

Friday.

Hanna opened his eyes wearily at five-thirty in the morning. With an explosive yawn he rubbed the sand out of his eyelids.

He'd never met the spiderlady again, and if he did he had two things he wanted to say to her. One: Where the hell did those blood-stained daggers go? And Two: I forgive you.

Cecil was not sitting at the end of Hanna's bed reading, as was the usual, and this disappointed him. Having a friend nearby after reliving that agonizing memory would've been nice. He really needed to get control of his meditation; he was slipping again.

It took about forty-five minutes to walk from Hanna's apartment to Comics-R-Us, where he was expected to show up at seven. That meant leaving precisely at 6:15 a.m. Hanna had plenty of time to get ready, he'd woken up fifteen minutes early.

Hanna slowly shuffled into the still darkened kitchen, pulling out the tools necessary for a bowl of one of his favorite cereals: Lucky Charms.

Every deliciously marshmallow-y bite was infused with good karma, and Hanna was helping himself to a second bowl when Claude entered, looking surprisingly somber in his black overcoat and fedora.

"Are you OK?" Hanna asked, turning the table on his zombie friend before Holden could say a word. But Hanna could tell his friend looked a little more gloomy than usual. Augustus didn't answer.

"You wanna hug?" Because really, hugs had held Hanna together after several devastating turns of his life.

Rupert looked surprised, but his face softened a little.

"I'll take that as a yes!" Hanna's sunshine grin was quickly accompanied by the flying-glomp – and a strangle hold hug on the unsuspecting zombie.

Hanna stared straight up, still grinning like a lunatic, chin resting on his zombie's chest, and watched happily as Edgar's expression finally melted into a miniscule twitch of his lips. It wasn't enough to make the tally, Hanna decided unhappily.

"C'mon, smile like you mean it!" Hanna scolded, pouting cutely and turning on all of his charm.

Salvador was putty in Hanna's hands; completely wrapped around his friend's little finger. A genuine smile spilled across the zombie's face.

Hanna abruptly broke from the hug to pump his fist triumphantly in the air, "All right, Rembrandt takes the lead again! Prepare to taste bitter defeat, Conrad!"

"I didn't know we were racing."

"Neither does Conrad!"

"…" His amused orange gaze said it all.

"I'm gonna change!" Hanna skipped to his closet, pulling out _the_ black and white striped long sleeve shirt, and pranced into the bathroom.

* * *

Hanna is almost unusually manic this morning, Millard thought, maybe it has to do something with getting paid over a thousand dollars in cash last night.

Not only had they left early because Hanna couldn't stand to be inside one minute more, but they were almost jogging to his job. Hanna happily bounced over every crack in the sidewalk and insisted that Franklin do the same.

Abraham had been disappointed when they finally had to part ways at Comics-R-Us. But the quick, warm parting hug he received from his employer left him standing in a delighted stupor for a moment outside the store.

Hanna was early! Today was a great day! His heart was racing for some odd reason, though, but he dismissed it.

He sprinted to the 'fiction' shelf (although Hanna knew better; some of the books were labeled mere fantasy, but there was more truth in them then anyone could imagine) and pulled out _Grave Peril_ by Jim Butcher, book three of Hanna's beloved _Dresden Files_.

Life couldn't get much better than this!

"We're out of coffee!" the cry went out.

A cold wind swept through the store. The lights dimmed. Several employees promptly committed suicide on the spot by holding their breath for too long.

A terrible wail went up amongst the survivors, who bemoaned their fates and soaked the ground with their tears.

Never mind. Today sucked.

* * *

Ulysses entered the store just as Hanna's shift ended at three in the afternoon.

He noticed there was something a little off. Every employee was holding a steaming cup of what Todd assumed was coffee. Actually, some were cradling completely empty cups, but they seemed just as happy too.

And a woman behind Customer Service was wearing a paper crown with the word "goddess" written on it.

Rutherford was just in time to see Hanna plant a gallant kiss on her hand, turn to leave for the day, and freeze where he stood when he saw his zombie friend waiting for him.

Words like betrayal, hatred, possessive, obsession, hurt, and jealousy were not familiar to Grover until that moment. Suddenly the paper-crowned woman was his immortal enemy. She was evil incarnate, she was going to meet an unfortunate accident on her way home tonight –

Hanna _skipped_ over to his zombie friend, seized his arm, then pointed to said vile, wretched woman with a finger.

"See that divine goddess over there!" Hanna exclaimed jubilantly.

Chester nodded gravely, yes, she was a soon-to-be mutilated corpse. He almost felt bad for her family.

"She brought coffee today!"

"… what?"

"We were out of coffee, and it was _tragic_-I-almost-_died_-and-we-were-going-to-revolt-until-coffee-was-restored-to-the-throne-but-then-she-brought-us-some-and-it-was-really-good-coffee-too-and-then-the-sun-came-out-and-it-was-a-zippa-dee-doo-daa-day-man-I-missed-you!"

Hanna hugged him fiercely for an instant, then stepped back (too quickly for Alan's taste), then took a deep breath to begin another grammatically incorrect sentence.

But then D'Artagnan pulled him back for another, longer hug. Never mind the people who were staring – Warren wanted everyone to know that Hanna was his and his alone. (The reasonable part of his mind which wondered _where_ those thoughts were coming from was easily ignored – best friends could get jealous too.)

Hanna blinked rapidly in surprise, then craned his head to look up at his zombie friend. "So you missed me too?"

"To say the least, Hanna."

Hanna's grin increased to face-splitting proportions. "Well come on! We've got investigating to do!"

Somehow Hanna had managed to escape Wilson's grasp and was cheerily running pell-mell out of Comics-R-Us. Woodrow had no choice but to chase after his red head.

They were heedless of the confused employees and customers left behind to gossip in the store.

* * *

"Thanks, Lamont, I owe you one. … Okay, two. Fine – three-but-who's-counting-anyways? …. Hmm, I'll buy you dinner sometime or something…Bye."

Hanna hung up the payphone and turned to Earl with a winning smile. He brandished a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it. "This is Mr. Tibenoch's home address, according to Lamont's sources."

Mancini asked a question that had been puzzling him since first meeting Lamont Toucey, "What, exactly, does Lamont do for a living?"

Hanna twisted his face into a hesitant scrunch. "Wellllll…he deals in lots of things. He's like, a supplier, a deliveryman. He supplies information, magical amplifiers, he rents buildings to uh, shady people like Worth and me. His list of…heh, services, is um, well, he's a jack of all trades, let's put it that way. The point is he knows a lot of useful people."

Hanna had made the call from inside a public payphone on a street corner. It was late afternoon, and the rush-hour traffic was just starting. It was pleasant to be investigating during the daytime instead of at the dark, creepy hour of midnight.

"The note says seven p.m. on Friday. That's when Mr. Tibenoch will be at the Ace's Liquor store. That's when we'll break into his house."

_What?_ Aquinas turned a doubtful, concerned gaze onto the red head. Previously in their investigations they hadn't done anything illegal or that could get them into trouble with the law.

"The plan is to find some more handwriting that matches this, and maybe a clue as to who the third party is."

"Tibenoch denied knowing the handwriting."

"He was lying, and now I'm going to find out the truth." Hanna said it with a dangerous, serious smile. Then he switched back to his regular crazy. "Until then, what should we do?"

Hanna took off at a brisk walk towards the heart of the city, beaming and talking away, "We could see a movie, visit that one art gallery place that always has free food, go to the park, go to the…" Hanna's mouth slowed down, and so did his pace until he was standing stock still.

"Hanna?" Wilbur questioned, watching the red head's thoughtful expression.

"Actually, how would you feel about a trip to the library, Peracelsus?" Hanna's face was still oddly thoughtful looking.

"Whatever you want." Rousseau simply replied.

Hanna's expression remained bland while he 'hmmmd', and he started walking once more, but not in the direction of the library.

"Maybe later!" Hanna exclaimed, and he had a triumphant smile like deciding not to go to the library was a victory. His pace quickened, and in a matter of comfortable, grin-filled minutes they emerged in front of a small craft store.

Kant wondered if Hanna had been to this store before, or if the purpose of their outing had secretly been to come to this craft store all along.

A door chime happily rang, signaling their entrance to the woman behind the checkout stand. It was a relatively small building, but it appeared larger on the inside. Larger, and extremely packed. The shelves in the store were floor to ceiling, and placed closely together, giving the place a labyrinth feeling.

Hanna had disappeared amongst the pale green shelves in no time, but Isaac caught just enough of a glimpse of him to amusedly realize Hanna was only stepping on the white tiles of the blue and white checkered floor.

Abelard was content to gaze upon the numerous items adorning the shelves. The objects were beautifully colored and varied. One cat themed sticker booklet made him pause. The cartoonish lion's flaming red mane distinctly reminded him of Hanna's hair.

Said red head suddenly breezed past the end of the shelf on his way to the checkout. Michelangelo followed at a more leisurely pace, wondering just what Hanna had come to buy. Perhaps some more magic markers?

Roland was momentarily stunned by the foot-tall stack of paper Hanna was purchasing. After approaching, though, he realized with wonder that it was all origami paper.

Hanna happily exchanged the boring paper bills Casimiro had given him for the beautifully colored and patterned paper squares.

And as he finally turned to his zombie friend to present the precious gift of potential cranes, Hanna was granted one of Benedetto's rare, heart-stopping smiles.

Hanna swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Thank-you." Epicurus said, his voice low and warm. It sent pleasant tingles up Hanna's spine.

Hanna's own smile was more relaxed and calm then his sunshine-grins, but no less affectionate.

"C'mon, I'll teach you to fold a crane." Hanna nudged his zombie companion towards the door, and a merry chiming of bells ushered them out.

They settled down outside of a little bakery. The garden chairs they comfortably reclined on were made out of delicate, circular curls, and appeared to defy gravity and the universe by supporting their weight.

"Gnee! All right," Hanna began by tearing open a packet of the origami squares. There were ten different patterns to choose from, each was a unique and captivating color.

Hanna immediately chose a "Halloween" sheet – it was orange with little black cat paw prints all over it. If Hobbes was to indulge himself, he might also have noticed that the colors corresponded to his own orange shirt, glowing orange eyes, and black tie.

"So for starters, fold it like this…" Hanna began the lesson in folding cranes. "Hey, take your gloves off, it'll be much easier. Then fold it like this…"

Tadeusz slowly followed along, but found that he took a lot more time replicating the folds then Hanna. Meanwhile, the red head had started working on a second crane besides his first while he waited for Norbert to finish the crease.

Slowly they worked through the first crane together. Brahe was confounded why his preservative-coated skin jumped at every contact with Hanna's warm fingers. ("No, no, like this," Hanna corrected.)

Leonid's first crane was not entirely symmetrical, and its back was caved in the center (the irony was not lost on Lexander, vividly recalling the stitches covering the knife-wounds on his own back), and the head was messy.

Hanna's exuberant praise irrefutably stated that it was the second best paper crane in the world.

"What is the first?" Otto asked curiously.

In response Hanna finished his own crane and teasingly proclaimed, "I am the best paper crane folder in the world, Kazimierz, didn't you know?"

"We'll just see about that." Pythagorus swiftly chose a leaf-patterned square; its various shades of red oak leaves reminded him of Hanna's hair.

He nimbly began folding the second crane of his undeath, occasionally asking Hanna for help.

"Hey, do you still have that first one I folded for you a few days ago?" Hanna asked, looking at Diogenes almost tensely, while effortlessly working on a crane simultaneously.

Amroth wasn't sure what the look Hanna was giving him was asking for, so he answered truthfully by pulling the plain white crane out of the pocket of his black overcoat. This had apparently been the right answer, as Hanna's face lit up with joy.

"You kept it! Gnee!" the red head exclaimed in pleased awe.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"Er, well, buh…" Hanna's voice faltered, and he suddenly riveted his stare to his crane. "Erm."

"I kept the fedora." Plato reminded Hanna, his voice warmed with confused compassion.

Oh, it could not be a good sign that Timon's voice made Hanna's stomach do flip-flops. Truthfully, Hanna couldn't quite understand why someone as cool and amazingly awesome as Zenon even cared for him, let alone kept the small gifts Hanna could afford to give him.

"I treasure every gift you give me, Hanna."

_Holy shit did I say that out loud?_ Hanna thought nervously.

Archimedes' probing orange gaze searched Hanna's face for answers. The red head ducked his head again and paid unwavering attention to the crane before him.

Apparently Hanna doubts my sincerity, Harrison thought uneasily.

Dillan sighed, then spontaneously perched his autumn-red crane on top of Hanna's burnt red hair. "I don't see the point in lying." He reminded Hanna, his voice low and concerned.

Suddenly Hanna recalled Lucius saying that to him before. Right after Conrad had…died-turned into a vampire and Hanna had been stitching the zombie's arm back on. (Which had been Hanna's fault, both Conrad dying and Tiberion losing his arm). It would have been so easy to avoid if Hanna had just…had just not been a pathetic coward and just….

"_You have much potential. Unfortunately, you are also a useless, incompetent child who will never learn to unleash it. In fact, even if you did learn, I suspect you'd be too cowardly to do such a thing, and expose yourself for what you truly are."_

Gilligan was extremely alarmed to see Hanna looking even more morose. A swift intervention was needed, and he could see no other way to bring Hanna out of his self-deprecating stupor. (Sylvestor _loathed_ it with every fiber of his being when Hanna sold himself short).

With a quick tug of arms, Brad captured Hanna in a hug. The zombie carefully wrapped his arms around the red head's broad shoulders and rested his chin feather-lightly on top of Hanna's red mane.

Hanna's sharp laugh was as sudden as broken glass. "God, look at me Denzel! I can get upset over the stupidest things!" Hanna pulled out of the hug, and Orlando wasn't sure how he felt about that, and he especially didn't like it when Hanna scooted farther away from him. He didn't like the forced distance whatsoever.

"Hanna," he tried, but what could he say now? Darn it, how had something so friendly as folding cranes wound up like this?

"Thanks, Jack. I was just living in the past, which I swore to never ever do, but sometimes I slip-up! I'm all right now, really. Well look at the time, I guess we'd better go pick up Veser and then head over to Tibenoch's place! C'mon, let's go!"

Hanna swept their few cranes into the bag with the origami paper and practically sprinted away, leaving Charlie to worriedly follow after. Living in the past, huh? He strongly wished Hanna would share some of his past with him, but apparently they had not reached that level of trust yet.

When he finally caught up with Hanna, the red head had seemingly gotten over whatever was upsetting him. Or hidden it. George suspected the latter.

"So who would win in a fair fight, the Borg or the Transformers?"

Hanna was smiling again, it was tiny and curious, but Matt could see nothing fake in it! Was Hanna bipolar? How could the red head swing from mood to mood like that and still be so completely and translucently honest with his feelings? It drove Douglas to insanity wondering if Hanna was faking being so cheerful and upbeat.

Instead of all this, he simply asked, "What are the Borg?"

The tension slowly faded as they both discussed the outcome of such a fight, and by the time they'd decided it was impossible to reach a conclusion, they were at Conrad's apartment.

Veser met them at the front door, practically vibrating with excitement.

"What's the plan – do I get to beat someone up?" his voice was snarly and expectant.

"Nope, but we are going to investigate Mr. Tibenoch's house."

Hanna began to lead the way, and Veser confusedly followed. "His house, why?" he asked, disappointed at the lack of violence.

Hanna showed Veser the note and the handwriting, explained that Mr. Tibenoch knew this third party somehow – possibly in connection to Lee's murder, and that they planned to search for the handwriting in Mr. Tibenoch's house.

Veser admitted it was a good idea, but he would prefer just beating the answers out of Mr. Tibenoch.

"That's just it, Ves, he might actually know nothing about Mr. Faullen and your mom's pelt, we won't be sure until we check out his place."

"Hmph. Fine."

Hanna chattered joyously about all manner of subjects while they walked, filling in the silence with agreeable conversation topics that he never seemed to run out of.

Until he suddenly exploded into a Queen song and insisted that both Veser and Elbridge sing along.

* * *

{I'm worried there's an excessive amount of line-breaks in this chapter, but what do you think?}

{This chapter had some sillies and serious-ness at an attempt of balance.}

{I've finally written a scene in chapter 11 that I've been looking forward to for a very long time. I can barely contain myself! At this point, I think I have my major plot twist worked out. Sort of.}

{A few kind words or a thoughtful, constructive criticism would really make my day. Please review.}


	5. Foreground: I'm Not Crazy

Mr. Tibenoch's house was two stories tall and average-sized. It was fashioned of dark black wood and white trimming, and fulfilled nearly all of the requirements to qualify as "creepy." The windows were all shuttered and locked, and the place looked abandoned except for the modern sign that proclaimed "Private Property!"

It was now 6:45 in the evening. It seemed darker and more hopeless about his house, possibly because Mister Tibenoch had a naturally dreary effect on his surroundings.

It was on the far outskirts of their city, and a dilapidated and patchy forest was slowly working its revenge on the neighborhood. The trees were growing taller, darker, and scarier by the minute. Even the weeds had made the extra effort to grow through the concrete sidewalks and roads.

The sky was just turning a dark blue, and the streetlamps automatically flickered to life.

They hid in the trees with baited breath, watching for Mister Tibenoch. A few minutes before seven he exited his spooky house, walked calmly down to his old car and drove off.

The moment he was out of sight Hanna crept into action. They'd seen Mr. Tibenoch lock his front door, and a quick inspection of the house revealed no other doors.

So with a cheery rune on a window pane, they suddenly had relatively easy access to the house. Hanna fucking loved magic.

After carefully clambering through the window on the first floor, they found themselves in the living room. This room actually had a fireplace as the center of the house instead of a television!

While the outside of the house had looked worn, depressing, menacing, much like an abused animal ready to strike, the inside was by comparison a study of warm, Victorian-style elements.

Most prominent were the books and the clocks. The incessant ticking noise of over a dozen clocks kept the trio unusually nervous.

Hanna couldn't detect any hidden traces of magic in the house, but Mr. Tibenoch was somehow involved in the shady affairs of the paranormal. How?

"Find an office or something, like a study or a writing desk." Hanna suggested, and the three of them began to search every room on the first floor together. They were not going to split up this time.

It was almost a let-down, how normal Mr. Tibenoch's house was: a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, a closet.

Then they ascended the stairs into the Twilight Zone.

There was a study, a music room, a bedroom, and one tall, ornate, threatening Grandfather Clock. It made Hanna gulp nervously, but there were still no dangerous vibes of magic! Every moment that passed without incident built up the suspense, tying knots inside him anxiously. He strained every sense, just waiting for some monster to leap out and maim them – but there was nothing except the Grandfather Clock. Hanna thought he heard a brief whisper, but then the sound disappeared like a sigh.

The bedroom contained a king-sized bed, which implied there was a spouse, but there were no photos obviously displayed.

The music room was just barely big enough to hold a baby grand piano, which was completely closed up and dusty.

The study was full of old and decrepit books. Hanna was astonished by the tomes, and almost considered stealing some. The mysteries of alchemy, creatures Hanna had only heard of in passing but never dreamed he might encounter, and incredible lists of spells: all lay at his fingertips.

To part with that knowledge was impossible…

Hanna stolidly turned away from the book shelves and focused on the room-filling desk.

There was a gruesome brown stain on the wood floor just in front of the desk. Hanna could only presume that it was blood.

If the handwriting was anywhere in this house, it would be hidden somewhere in this desk.

"Don't touch anything yet." Hanna cautioned Veser and Atticus. He carefully ran the blunt edge of his hammer along the side of the desk. There were no magical locks, no booby-traps, no security puzzles of any kind.

Hanna could not comprehend it; why would Mr. Tibenoch have so many books on magic and the supernatural, but never employ it in his own house?

Hanna continued to wonder at it as he tentatively opened each drawer, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. As every mahogany drawer slid open effortlessly, he expected the worse. Finally, though, they were all opened and nothing had mauled them.

"Okay," Hanna set down their sample of handwriting on the desk. "Let's start looking."

Without further ado they began to swiftly and systematically search through Mr. Tibenoch's papers. If they were organized, Hanna couldn't tell, but he concentrated on replacing them in exactly the same order as he found them.

Another five minutes of the unnerving _TICK…TOCK_ of the Grandfather clock. Hanna swore he heard the occasional whisper, but as neither of his companions appeared to have heard it, he dismissed it.

"Here." Gregorovich pulled out a small stack of rumpled pieces of paper – letters. The handwriting definitely matched their sample.

The three of them quickly read through the 'latest' letter.

_Dear Friend,_

_I have wonderful news. His heart started beating again today, although he still will not wake. This time I think he will stay in the coma. I have begun the usual attempts at waking coma patients, but only time will tell. Thank you for your patience, and if you would like to see him, feel free to visit this Friday. Anytime after seven works best for me, and I hope this does not inconvenience you._

_Cordially, Aaron Cinders_

"Read and memorize!" Hanna's instructions were crisp and clear. They divided the letters quickly and poured over each one. The tone was generally curt but friendly, and Hanna quickly came to the conclusion that Sanders must be a doctor of some kind for 'him', and that 'he' must be suffering an unusual illness.

A letter dated a month ago read thusly:

_I am so sorry to report that I lost him again. Please do not lose hope – I have not. I think it would be a wonderful help to me if you were to visit him. If there are any familiar things you could bring with you, like a sample of his favorite music, anything that would help pull him out of this sleep._

Hanna could only assume that a sleep without a heartbeat was the sleep of death; the sleep of the dearly departed.

All the letters were more or less the same – status reports on 'him'. But Mr. Aaron Cinders provided nothing more than his name.

When they were finished reading them, they carefully put them back and closed the drawers, doing their utmost best to leave not a trace of their presence.

A soul-jolting voice whispered into Hanna's mind: _"Don't leave yet! Read me."_ Hanna almost shouted, but smothered it behind a hand as he jumped six feet in the air.

Nick was quickly beside him, whispering, "What's wrong?"

Veser desperately looked around for a source of tangible danger. Jasper unhappily observed Hanna's ashen appearance; they were going to leave now.

"_Read me please, it has been so long…"_

"_No read me – you want power, yes? Strength-"_

"_Runes and alchemy – taboo and commonplace-"_

"_The Anatomy of the Paranormal-"_

"_Please read me-"_

Hanna's face twisted into a terrible grimace, "Collin," the strangled name immediately set the zombie into action.

"Veser, we're leaving." He returned his orange stare to Hanna, who showed no signs of having heard Ramone or Veser.

Frodo hesitated an instant, then hastily grasped Hanna's sweaty hand in his own. He tugged Hanna forward, and the red head followed haltingly, dragging his feet and still looking extremely disturbed by something that both Veser and Darcy couldn't see.

Just as they escaped out the window they'd entered through, Hanna abruptly stopped outside the house. He craned his head to look up at the study…the voices were dim and despairing.

"_We are lost –"_

"_So alone…"_

"_Read me, please…"_

Veser and Heathcliff were shocked to see that Hanna was actually crying – almost sobbing.

"Veser – the bag." Ichabod placed his hands on Hanna's shoulders and shook him back and forth gently, but urgently. "Hanna?" he whispered, but Hanna would not look away from the house.

Veser appeared with the bag of origami paper, looking jumpy. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Porthos nodded in agreement, took hold of Hanna's hand once more, and briskly led the way back into town.

When they were about three blocks away from Mr. Tibenoch's house, Hanna violently snapped out of his trance.

"Shit!" Hanna exclaimed, and the hand not holding Lennie's hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He started when he felt the streaks of tears on his cheeks. "That was- that was…" Apparently words failed him.

"What the fuck happened to you? You sort of just froze up there." Veser was relieved Hanna was back to 'normal', but carefully watched his friend for any further signs of illness, "And then you started crying for no reason."

Hanna shakily drew in a breath, wiped the tears away hurriedly, and then squared his broad shoulders.

"The books spoke to me. They were begging me to read them; they could tell I'm a magic-user." Hanna's voice became a little more distant, like the memory was still tantalizing him, "There was so much knowledge up there…I wanted it. I would've stayed there reading until Mr. Tibenoch came back and found me if it weren't for," Hanna finally seemed to notice his and Watson's linked hands.

With more regret then Hanna could fathom, he slipped his hand out of Kipling's. He missed the feel of Daniel's gloved fingers wrapped around his own already. _Weird, why should I miss holding Zhao's hand?_

Hanna slumped over, suddenly exhausted. He brought both hands up to massage his pounding temples. The books…oh how he wished he could go back and read them – but enough of those thoughts!

A bone-deep weariness seized him, and all Hanna wanted to do was relax into his meditative trance and recall a happy memory – they were few, but precious. Wearily, Hanna started to walk again, wishing absently to still be holding Bernini's hand.

Dorian and Veser noticed the change worriedly. Whatever had happened had clearly sucked the energy out of the usually plucky red head. They walked slowly besides Hanna, waiting anxiously for anything else to befall the young man.

"Veser, do you mind if we drop Hanna off at the apartment before I walk you back to Conrad's?" Seth asked.

"I don't need some escort – I can walk by myself! But sure, he looks really tired." Veser sent another worried glance towards Hanna, who appeared to be sleep-walking.

Poussin agreed. Although the zombie could not become 'sick' or 'tired' as a normal human could, the memories of what that felt like were instinctive. And right now, Giorgio was sick with worry.

He could tolerate no more after Hanna stumbled for the fifth time on the sidewalk.

Hanna didn't register that he was being lifted until he blearily opened his eyes and noticed a green, stitched up neck and a black overcoat in front of him.

With these observations came the passive epiphany that he was getting a piggyback ride. It seemed only natural to wrap his arms around Rodriguez's neck and rest his head in the back of Jean's black hair.

_Mmm, he smells _really _good._ Hanna's thoughts trailed off as his meditative trance seized hold of him.

But this time, no memories played across Hanna's mind. Where the vivid recollections usually were, there was only a dark, comfortable void. It was a fantastic change to not scan over his memories for some hidden clue – something that could be useful.

Hanna had never been able to quiet his mind so completely before. He hoped he could achieve this state again; it was indescribably wonderful.

Hanna Falk Cross was an interesting person. The fiery red head was almost obnoxiously chipper and talkative, but he was also very kind and apparently very smart. From what Veser had seen of Hanna's torn up chest, there was definitely more to the teenage-looking twenty-four year old than what met the eye.

"So, zombie dude, did Hanna ever tell you what the deal is with that zig-zaggy scar on his chest?" Veser asked, cautiously looking over at the tall, gloomy man.

The zombie sighed, but his face remained as expressionless as always. "I didn't ask."

"What? Why not? Aren't you curious?" Veser was trying his best to read the apathetic mask of the zombie, but he could learn nothing from the unchanging face, as always.

"If I did ask, he wouldn't answer." Okay, there was definitely a bitter tone to that answer.

Veser 'hmmd', then lapsed into silence once more. A minute later, he suddenly lifted the bag and looked inside. "What's with the origami paper anyways?"

The zombie could show emotion! His green face softened marginally. "Hanna bought them. We're going to fold one thousand paper cranes."

"Oh – so you can wish for your memories back?" Veser had been surprised to learn from Conrad that the zombie had no memories and that Hanna supplied a new name for him at every opportunity.

The zombie shook his head, "No. I've had ten years to move on, and so have they. Even if I did regain my memories, I would never leave Hanna."

This sentence was accompanied by an unexpected snuggle from said red head, who nuzzled his face into the crook of the zombie's neck.

Veser exposed one of his own sharp-toothed grins, "I think he's glad to hear that."

It was the first time Veser had seen Hanna's apartment. It was small, it was filled with crap, and generally could be almost depressing. And yet, it seemed more lived-in and well-loved than Conrad's neat and tidy condo.

The zombie laid Hanna down gently onto the mattress on the floor. The blue light spilling in from the tiniest window to ever exist contrasted sharply with the zombie's benevolent orange gaze. He removed Hanna's glasses and shoes, then returned to escort Veser back to Conrad's.

Veser complained loudly that he didn't need some zombie to 'walk him home', but truthfully, he was glad for the company.

The reminder of Lee's ghost had Wassily on edge: _"I need to find Veser…Someone wants to kill him…they almost got to me too…I have to warn him!"_

Who was this 'someone'? Was it Aaron Cinders? How did Mr. Cinders tie in with the note? The note they found with Lee's body had read: "It wasn't his to begin with, come get what is yours, then."

'His' probably referred to Lee Faulun. And 'it' was most likely the seal pelt. Aaron Cinders had written that note, the handwriting was irrefutably identical. But why would Mr. Cinders steal the pelt to begin with? What was his motivation in all this? And why connect Mr. Tibenoch to the crime?

Cato froze in his tracks, darted out a hand and grabbed Veser's arm.

"Quiet!" he whispered urgently.

He'd heard a scuffling sound nearby. They were walking on the sidewalk in between a row of residential houses and apartments. The streetlights provided them enough light to follow the sidewalk, but the houses were dim outlines resting in shadow.

The sound was gone, but now Elbridge was on the alert. They were still five blocks away from Conrad's, at least, but they were also too far away from Hanna's apartment. It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd heard a suspicious noise almost half-way in between the two points of refuge.

The sound of hurried footsteps came unexpectedly from the other side of the road, and this time Veser heard it too.

Cicero cursed himself; he hadn't even brought the hammer with him! Although he couldn't experience an adrenaline rush anymore, he could clearly remember what terror and panic should feel like. And Veser exemplified both, except with Veser's own peculiar mix of blind-courage and aggression.

Five blocks away from Conrad's…but would they be any safer there? Conrad wasn't what one could consider backup in a fight. Hanna was a better choice, but his apartment was farther away. Decisions!

Worth's! Worth's clinic was only two blocks away – and at least Worth had more knowledge of the supernatural. And it seemed like Worth was always angry, so maybe he would actually be useful in a fight? Either way, it was something their pursuer must not have taken into account, and so St. Claire would use it to his advantage.

"Follow, and stay close to me." Regulus lightly placed one gloved hand on Veser's shoulder and began to lead the way back to Worth's.

The footsteps followed them, faster.

He knew the attack was coming before Veser. He pushed the teenager away from the immediate danger, and thrust a fist out to meet the oncoming threat.

He was satisfied with a…feminine sounding grunt.

And then the sudden, disorientating feeling of having his head jaggedly severed from his already stitched-up neck.

It was absolutely the most disturbing sensation imaginable. Or rather, the sudden and gut-wrenching _nothingness_ that accompanied only being a head. The impulse to get up and move could not be followed through with action from his body. It was beyond frightening and helpless.

From his place on the concrete, Nemo could see his own unresponsive body. The woman assailant had fallen down with it, and he could see the large knife she grasped shakily, desperately.

From his vantage point he could also clearly see Veser's shocked and horrified expression. He stared at the woman as if she was a ghost, and his voice was choked when he managed to get out a breathless, disbelieving question.

"Mom?"


	6. Foreground: Someday

Author's Note: Look, an update! Ya~ay~! Homework ruins my life. Do you agree?

Disclaimer: Hanna is Not A Boy's Name belongs to Tessa Stone.

* * *

Hanna's internal alarm clock jolted him out of the pleasant void of his meditation at precisely six o'clock.

"Shit I'm gonna be late for work!" Hanna flew off the mattress to get dressed, but… Hanna looked down at himself. He was already wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Huh?

And why hadn't Pierce woken him up…?

The events of the previous night crashed down onto his mind. He could recall stumbling away from Mr. Tibenoch's, drained from the mental assault of the books. And from there his memories were mysteriously blank.

Where was Amadeo? The zombie was usually there when Hanna woke up in the morning.

But it was Saturday! Of course - Hanna's one day off. Maybe Rene had gone for a walk and figured Hanna would sleep in.

And while Hanna was thinking about it, maybe he _could_ 'sleep in'.

He lay back down on the mattress, so that if Ryan entered it would look like he was still slumbering.

Hanna slowed his breathing, picturing the comfortable dark void of his earlier state. He took this moment to poke around his mental barriers.

Due to his past experiences with various types of mind-probing villains, Hanna had built up a 'wall' around himself. The best way to defend his memories was to simply accept them, and to no longer be threatened by them. This was incredibly difficult because Hanna had a hard time letting things go so completely.

It was hard to describe his mental shields, the general idea was that if anyone searched his mind they would find only forbidden, walled off areas. He surrounded his knowledge and memories with the idea of "protection," and all that a mind-reader would find was the fortress of Hanna's mind: impenetrable.

Hanna was a trial-and-error type learner, and learning how to defend his mind had been excruciatingly painful, but worth it. Inside his mindscape he'd written his own imaginary runes to protect himself.

After examining his inner fortress, Hanna resumed clearing his thoughts. But he was still jumpy. Thoughts like – _where is Katsushika right now? –_ kept bursting into his mind. _Does Norman actually breathe? If he gets his memories back, will he leave me? What if his name is actually something uncomplicated like Bill?_

_Rrrgh, why do I keep thinking about Beethoven? Why can't I relax? Why can't I clear my thoughts? How did I achieve that void last time? Maybe I was more tired than I realized…?_

A fruitless hour of trying to slip into that meditative state finally frustrated Hanna beyond hope.

He got up, and was surprised to find that Giotto still wasn't home. Maybe he's out shopping? Hanna wondered seriously where his zombie could be.

Hanna glanced out his apartment's only window.

It was raining outside.

Paul had once inadvertently confessed that he didn't like getting wet.

But it was pouring outside! Hanna checked the closet: the umbrella was still there, completely dry.

Sean would've come back if it started raining, right? He would've come back at the first hint of rainclouds, right?

_Oh my god what if he really did get his memories back and now – and now he could – he could be, _Hanna didn't dare complete the thought.

Hanna took a deep breath and tried to be logical and reasonable.

It had rained the day before his parent's funeral.

He remembered logically going through the emergency contact list of phone numbers they had left for him. If only he could call Mrs. Galen right now.

At some point during the night Veser would've had to have returned to Conrad's. So Hanna would check in with them first. Then…then he would retrace their steps back to Tibenoch's, and he'd ask Worth, just to make sure.

Hanna quickly changed into some fresh clothes, stuffed himself into a large, thick coat, and then dashed out the door, running headlong to Worth's in an ever building panic.

Or – or – or! The brilliant idea suddenly burst like a balloon. He'd thought, maybe Toni could track Artemis' scent, but surely the rain had washed it all away now.

Maybe there was some other way Hanna could track his zombie friend using magic?

Zombies weren't _magical_ creatures, and they didn't leave lingering trails like vampires, werewolves, and faeries did. The rain had probably washed away any physical evidence of Donatello's footsteps.

What made a zombie – a reanimated corpse – unique enough to track? What made Hieronymus unique?

_The paper crane guide spell!_

He skid to a halt at Worth's door, yanked it open, and lurched inside. Hanna was pretty wet at this point, and he hoped Worth wouldn't mind the puddles he was dripping inside.

"Worth!" he shouted. It was, Hanna checked his watch, 7:10 in the morning. Oh jeez, raising Worth at this hour would be like waking a dragon.

"Woorrthh!"

It started as a preemptive, gravelly, "What the fuck?" Then it increased in volume and irate-ness, "Hanna? That had better not be you! And you had better not be bleeding!"

Hanna followed the voice wearily, and found Worth on a cot behind his desk. The doctor didn't look as bad as the last time Hanna had seen him; Worth just looked very, very tired.

"Hell, Hanna, what time's it 'nyways?"

"It's seven, but that's not important – have you seen Ambrose?" Hanna watched as Worth's unshaven face scrunched up into an expression of utter confusion.

"Yer pet zombie? No I haven't seen 'im…" he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his crusty eyes.

Hanna's heartbroken expression was a serious wake up call for Worth, who tried to force himself awake further.

"Wha's wrong?"

"He wasn't here this morning, and Moore is almost always waiting for me to wake up…! And it's raining outside," Worth failed to see how this was part of the problem, until Hanna quickly elaborated, "And Davies hates the rain! And he didn't take an umbrella!"

"Neither did you." Worth shot Hanna a murderous look, "If you catch cold because you were runnin' 'round outside without an umbrella – "

"If you see Pablo tell him I'm looking for him and to wait at the apartment for me OK?" Hanna was already dashing out of Worth's humble abode.

"Wait you fucking idiot take the umbrella by the door!" Worth shouted after him.

Hanna did an admirable Mr. Fantastic impression as he reached for the umbrella and the doorknob simultaneously, grasped both, and flung himself out the door with a quick holler of "Thanks!"

Worth ran both hands down his face tiredly. Seven in the fucking morning. _I'm getting too old for this shit._

Worth had a fair idea that Hanna would try Conrad's next, and so – ignoring the peculiar skipping jump of his heart beat at the prospect of calling Conrad – he dialed the vampire.

"What the hell do you want Worth?" came the 'polite' response at the other end of the line. Conrad sounded a bit foggy; he'd probably just awoken to answer the phone. For fuck's sake, it was a Saturday! Why did this have to happen on a Saturday?

"Hanna's on his way over. Make the idiot some hot coffee would you?" Worth ground out, searching his desk for his packet of cigarettes.

"Why is Hanna coming over at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning?" Conrad sounded resigned to being dragged into something again.

"His zombie's missing."

"What? Gone?"

"I dunno, ask Hanna. G'night." Worth promptly hung up, and would've gone back to sleep, except now he was worried, and his stupid conscience would nag him until he gave up.

Wearily, he made his way back to the examination room and began organizing a satchel of medical supplies to take with him.

Conrad knew something had to have been wrong when Veser hadn't come back to the apartment last night. But still, the zombie, missing? The undead man was practically glued to Hanna, how could he possibly disappear?

Conrad moved into his kitchen and began fixing two cups of hot coffee. He added extra sugar to Hanna's. Then he remembered he didn't drink coffee anymore; old habits die hard.

After a brief instant of peace – the calm before the storm – the sound of someone knocking loudly and repetitively on his door almost made him drop his own cup; coffee was just an addiction Conrad couldn't shake, even in death.

He quickly opened the door, and Hanna burst in like a typhoon.

Conrad shut the door behind the dripping wet red head and noticed the umbrella Hanna carried hadn't even been opened.

Conrad passed Hanna the cup of coffee, and the younger man gratefully clutched it.

"Have you seen Dustin?" Hanna scanned the apartment, "Where's Veser?"

Conrad felt the cold grip of sudden awareness stifle the warmth of the coffee he was holding.

"He's not with you?" he asked. He'd thought for sure that Veser must've stayed with Hanna and the zombie at their apartment, but…!

"No! That means both McNeill and Veser are missing!"

Conrad observed the red head's expression carefully and found that he looked actually kind of happy about it.

"Why do you look relieved?" Conrad asked, his worry making him sound angry at the young man.

"N-No reason!" But Hanna was not doing a good job at lying this time.

"Mmm-hmmm." Conrad shot Hanna an appraising, accusatory look. "Tell me."

Hanna's face suddenly dropped, and Conrad was shocked to see the red head's expression was one of…shame.

"I thought that…maybe he'd left me. Selfish, I know." The admission was so quiet and lonely that the vampire had a hard time believing it came from Hanna Falk Cross – perpetual happiness extraordinaire.

Seeing the red head look so worried and glum…Conrad realized with a start it was how Hanna had looked after Conrad had turned into a vampire. He hoped Hanna wasn't blaming himself over that too…

"Look, Hanna, the zombie would never leave you. He's too worried about you." Possibly not the most comforting thing to say, and Conrad had his own suspicions about a budding, more-than-best-friends relationship between the two; he wisely kept those thoughts to himself.

Hanna sighed explosively. "God – all this stupid moping!" He took an enormous gulp of coffee. "They must've been kidnapped!" he announced.

"Kidnapped – by who?"

Hanna's face fell back to uncertainty, "I'm not sure…but, who would have the motive? Conrad, will you come investigate with me?"

The immortal made the mistake of looking at Hanna's pleading blue eyes.

"Yes…"

"Gnee! Thank-you! Would you please call Toni, I want as much help as possible!"

"What are you planning, exactly?" Conrad anxiously began dialing Toni's cell. He feared her wrath at seven in the morning.

"Welp, since Veser was kidnapped too, I think it's likely that whoever was out to get Veser took Simon too. And I think that someone is the third party – Aaron Cinders."

"Aaron Cinders, who's that?" Conrad paused and suddenly spoke into his cell phone, "Oh, good morning Toni. Yes, I do have a very good reason for calling you. Veser and uh, zombie-dude are gone. They've been kidnapped."

Hanna was grateful he didn't have to explain his suspicions about Mr. Cinders to Conrad. He had an ominous feeling of déjà, and a sinking conclusion about who Aaron Cinders really was. The puzzle pieces were coming together rapidly in Hanna's hyperventilating mind.

More loud pounding sounds came from Conrad's front door. Hanna opened it hesitantly, and in stepped Worth, who was also dripping wet.

"Conrad – coffee!" he demanded.

"Shut up! No!, not you Toni, I was talking to Worth. So where should we all meet? Hanna?" Conrad glanced over at the red head.

"Worth, could we borrow your place for a meeting?"

"S'pose."

"At Worth's, as soon as possible, I guess." Conrad paused, "Ok, bye."

He clicked the phone shut, "Toni says she'll meet us at Worth's ASAP."

"Okay, I need to go back to the apartment and get a few things. I'll meet you guys over there." Hanna passed his half finished coffee cup over to Worth, and then fled rapidly through the front door.

"Worth, what the hell are you here for?" Conrad asked, heaving an exasperated sigh.

In answer, Worth pulled two blood packets out of his medical satchel and handed them over without any fuss. Conrad was blown away by the complete lack of name-calling and swearing.

"C'mon, Connie," but it didn't sound like an insult…it sounded like an endearment, like when Hanna said it, "We'll take my van. Goddamn rain…" and Worth breezed out of the apartment as well, taking Conrad's cup with him.

Conrad nodded and slipped into his shoes. He wasn't sure how to take this new civility, but decided he would do his best to keep the peace if Worth did.

Hanna was panicking on the inside. Was Perotinus OK? Was Veser OK?

When he reached his apartment his thick coat was mostly soaked, and he was completely out of breath, but that seemed inconsequential now.

The autumn-red crane that Hildegard folded – where was it?

There was the bag, there was the origami paper, and there was the crane! Hanna triumphantly grinned, and then carefully tucked it away in a dry pocket.

"What else do I need?" Hanna had already packed his magic marker and his hammer; what else could he bring? He didn't have a lot of weapons – they weren't really his style.

Maybe it was time he invested in something else, something that Guiddo could keep with him.

After deciding there was nothing else left to grab, Hanna bolted out of his apartment again, mindful of the precious crane he carried with him.

Hanna arrived just in time to see Toni sprinting into Worth's right before him. It was still raining, and showed no signs of stopping.

Hanna followed right behind her, busting into the 'hospital-of-sorts' hastily.

Everyone was there: Conrad, Toni, and Worth. They all looked at him for answers. The atmosphere was tense and charged. Hanna was so grateful to have friends to turn to, friends he could trust.

"OK, I'm gonna explain quickly so pay attention: when John was possessed by Mr. Faulun I used an anchor – a guide spell to call him back to himself and to uproot the ghost. It took the form of a paper crane," here Hanna produced the delicate, autumn-red crane, "Now that was a mental spell, but I plan to modify it to make it physical."

Hanna uncapped his magic marker and began to write a rune onto the wing of the crane. "He's touched this recently, and it meant something to him. So, if I have this figured correctly,"

Hanna abruptly rolled up the sleeve of his coat and jotted down a squiggly line on his forearm. Then both the wing of the crane and the squiggly glowed orange.

The crane leapt off of Hanna's palm and began fluttering in the air, then flew directly to Worth's door, where it urgently bumped against it.

"It's like another guide, but this time it's for us to find Leonel's physical body. Is everyone ready?"

Doc Worth nodded, patting his medical satchel. "Hanna, let's take my van. Is there any limit on how fast that crane can go?"

"Nope, but I've made it so that it waits for us, and it's waterproof."

Mildly surprised by Hanna's foresight, they proceeded to pile into Worth's van, with Hanna taking the passenger seat.

The autumn-red crane would almost be lost in the rain, it was such a small thing, but it apparently 'tugged' on the squiggly line on Hanna's arm, and so the navigation wasn't too last-second-panic-U-Turn.

"How much further?" Worth growled, glancing at the arrow that said the tank was only a quarter full of gas.

"I dunno!" Hanna took a deep breath, and then drew another rune on his arm. It flared orange, and Hanna's face twisted into one of surprise, "Like, another forty miles."

"All right, tell yer crane to hold up while I stop and get gas." Worth swerved into a gas station and jumped out to pay.

It was crazy. Having to stop for something as simple and stupid and corporeal as gasoline. Hanna wanted to go now! He was desperate and panicky and scared of losing his best friend.

There was a painful _twinge_ deep inside him. Hanna's eyes shot open, and he inadvertently clapped a hand to his stomach. No – not that –

"Hanna, are you OK?" Toni asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Toni."

_Control yourself, Hanna! _He took a deep breath, and the inwardly clenched feeling dissipated as he calmed himself. _We don't want a repeat of _that.

After Worth finished filling the van up, they peeled out into the soggy streets once more.

Forty miles at about forty-five miles per hour. Taking into account stop lights, traffic, missed turns, duckling crossings, school zones, _it was taking too long!_

Hanna clutched his roiling stomach again, and this time, Worth noticed. They shared a very significant look.

"So you really care fer 'im?" Worth asked, his voice the tiniest whisper. Toni and Conrad perked up and listened intently.

Hanna's listless expression shocked them both, as did his answer, "He's the closest thing I have to family left, besides you and Mont."

Toni laid a comforting hand on Hanna's shoulder again. "And what about us? What are we, chopped liver?"

Hanna turned an awe filled gaze onto Conrad and Toni. "Really?" it was a disbelieving whisper.

Conrad smiled, looking exasperated. (Another tally mark.) "Really really."

Hanna's face melted into an expression of affectionate adoration.

Both the vampire and werewolf were not used to having such a look of gratified-wonder directed at them, and it made them feel surprisingly burdened. Like, now that they were part of the Cross family, they would always be a little more worried for Hanna than usual.

A phrase Toni had read on a church billboard seemed oddly fitting: "I pray to be the person my dog thinks I am."

How could they possibly live up to the intensely loyal and admiring look he was sending them?

Worth chuckled. He glanced behind him at their star-struck expressions. Worth had experienced the same kind of feeling after he'd patched Hanna up after _that_ night. That was when he officially took up the job of helping Hanna out of whatever mess he'd gotten himself into.

A little over an hour later found them on a gravel road outside of town, winding through a dismal forest of dark and gloomy trees.

The road (or was it a driveway?) was plastered with signs that read "Private Property – Turn Back Now!" and "Warning: You Are Being Filmed" and "Intruders Will Be Maimed."

The crane led them ever onward down the road, until the trees suddenly ended, and a gigantic clearing opened up in front of them.

In this clearing was a very interesting looking building. It looked sort of like a hospital, and sort of like a house. It was only one story, and it was all white bricks and white lining. It had a flat roof, and darkened windows.

The autumn-red crane flitted through the van's window and landed safely in Hanna's palm.

"This is definitely the place. Let's go knock on the door."

Hanna shrugged out of his coat; it wasn't raining here, thankfully. He removed the squiggly rune from his arm, and replaced it with an all-purpose energy blast rune.

Worth parked the van by the front of the house, next to a white SUV.

They anxiously approached the front door and rang the doorbell.

It was strange. Hanna had panicked about where the crane might lead them – to the entrance of an underground lair, a skyscraper where the penthouse was filled with evil sorcerers, or even a haunted mansion!

But to a strange looking house outside of town in the middle of the woods? It could've been any eccentric citizen's house.

And they were ringing the doorbell, for goodness sake. They weren't charging in, magic blasting and obliterating everything in their path.

He was absolutely certain that Sermisy was here. And Veser was probably there with him. And the only person who would kidnap Veser would be someone who didn't want any loose ends in Mr. Faulun's murder.

Mr. Hatch murdered Lee – Lee's ghost had admitted as much. But then what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Hatch anyways? Where did they disappear to, and did they disappear together or separately?

And Aaron Cinders was somehow involved in all this. He had written: "It wasn't his to begin with, come get what is yours, then." On that note they'd found with Mr. Faulun's body.

Hanna read it to mean this: "The seal pelt wasn't Mr. Faulun's to begin with, come get what is yours then, Mrs. Hatch."

If, and this was a very big "if," Mr. Cinders had stolen the pelt and baited Mrs. Hatch with it, that would make sense. But the true question was why? What was Mr. Cinder's motivation in all this? If the rumors Hanna had heard were true, and this Aaron Cinders was actually the person Hanna suspected, then he feared the worst.

The simple white door was hesitantly opened before them.

A man with blonde hair and brown eyes, somewhere in his thirties, looked out at them in confusion. He wore a simple white shirt and gray slacks. This person was so normal looking.

"Do you have an appointment?" the man asked, looking them over dubiously.

"No, but we hoped we could just get a quick check-up for my friend, Toni." Hanna's friends were shocked by how easily the red head lied.

"Toni has missed her, ahem, cycle the last two full moons." Hanna continued, looking every bit the embarrassed and concerned friend.

Toni was inwardly aghast that Hanna should make her into the diseased one – why not Conrad? Or Worth?

The man stared at them for another incredulous moment.

"This is Mr. Aaron Cinder's house, right?" Hanna asked, looking worried.

"Yes it is. So you're a werewolf?" The man looked pointedly at Toni.

"Yes…" she answered, uncertainly.

"All right." He opened the door further for them, "Come on in. _I_ am Aaron Cinders, and I'm willing to help any supernatural person or creature in need. Please follow me."

The moment Hanna stepped into the 'hospital-house' his blood froze, and his heart stuttered.

_This place is_ – ! Hanna shivered, and this time his stomach rolled nauseously and contorted in pain. _Control yourself, Hanna!_

Mr. Cinders led them to a large office room. It held a single white desk and looked Official. It even had a name placard with "Aaron Cinders" written on it. There were also a few chairs for customers to sit in front of his desk, but no one moved to take one.

Behind the desk, which was almost against a wall, was a large and long aquarium, filled with surprisingly regular looking trout or something.

As Mr. Cinders sat down at his desk, he folded his hands in front of him, and suddenly his polite atmosphere was gone.

His eyes were hard and calculating. His voice became low and powerful.

"Mister Cross, welcome to my domain. I've been waiting for you."

The classic villain opening line.

* * *

I implore, I beg, I threaten, I bribe: please review? Even one phrase like, "Please update" would encourage me.

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	7. Foreground: A Whiter Shade of Pale

Hanna looked grim. "I figured as much."

"Mister Cross, it is a pleasure. The rumor mill doesn't do you justice." Mr. Cinders relaxed into his white leather chair, looking completely at ease.

"Mr. Cinders, what've you done with Veser, Mrs. and Mr. Hatch, her seal pelt, and Josquin?" Hanna sent a steely glare at the man.

"Why should I know what you're talking about?" he asked, casting a rueful gaze over their group.

"Because, Mr. Cinders, I know you wrote this note." Hanna held up the piece of paper accusingly, "And I know you left it by Mr. Faulun's body just so I would find it, and find my way here. I know you've been leading poor Mr. Tibenoch on for three months; whoever it is he thinks you're trying to bring back to life is long gone." Hanna paused. "What I can't figure out is _why_. Why do all this?"

Mr. Cinders spun in his chair to face the fish-crowded aquarium behind him.

"The answer is simple, Mister Cross. I want power, and knowledge is power. For the last decade I have been collecting knowledge, and in the course of this pursuit I have acquired a number of samples."

Hanna's fists suddenly clenched around the hammer and marker he carried. "_Samples?_" he hissed.

"Yes." Mr. Cinders spun back around to face them, and this time his eyes were lit up with a maniacal, insane glint.

"Yes, samples. Of course I had to let some live or else my reputation as a doctor would've been ruined, and then no one would come to me. I have learned much over the course of a decade."

"And was Mrs. Hatch just another sample?" Hanna ground out.

"Mm, fortunately Mr. Faulun took care of the business of the seal pelt for me. I would've just stolen it from him if Mr. Hatch hadn't interfered and killed the poor fellow. I changed my plans, and took both the pelt and Mr. Hatch as a little snack for my pets."

"Pets?" Conrad asked.

"Hmm…yes, your zombie was a worthy addition to my collection. He's the first I've met who didn't want to eviscerate me."

"_Where is he?_" Hanna's voice had reached a new record for pissed off-sounding. He was fucking furious. "Tell me where the fuck he is!"

Mr. Cinders raised an eyebrow at the explosion. "He's with the rest of his kind, in the pit."

"Bring Veser, Mr. and Mrs. Hatch AND her pelt, and Clement to me right fucking now." Hanna demanded, uncapping his magic marker in threat.

"Sorry, no-can-do. Mr. Hatch is a dinner guest of mine."

"_You fed him to zombies?_" Hanna looked absolutely livid. "Conrad, Toni, Worth: go find them right now. Follow the crane."

Hanna lifted the crane out of his pocket, and it immediately flew to a door that was unfortunately right besides Mr. Cinder's desk.

Mr. Cinders glanced at the crane in grudging admiration, and then returned his stony gaze to Hanna.

"They are welcome to explore my domain. My true desire is to collect you, Mister Cross. Your friend's efforts are but a minor irritant. They will fail."

Mr. Cinders stood all at once, and a malevolent presence convulsed around him.

He opened up a filing drawer, and pulled out a sword like Marry Poppins would pull out a hat rack from her carpet bag.

It was a well balanced sword, obviously expensive and custom made for Mr. Cinders. It was silver and white, but did not appear to have any magical properties to it.

"This is your last chance, Mr. Cinders." Hanna said, grip tightening on his marker and hammer.

"I'll try not to kill you, Mister Cross, but no promises."

Hanna sent a mental command into the rune on the hammer. Its wooden shaft grew longer until it was staff-length.

"Impressive, Mister Cross. You are a talented magician."

With that compliment Mr. Cinders leapt into the fight with a maniacal smile.

Although the sword would've cut through the wood of the hammer at any other time, Hanna had enchanted it to become stronger than steel.

Hanna just blocked the arc of the sword, then quickly bounced away, eyeing Mr. Cinders wearily.

Hanna was not a closet swordsman by any stretch of the imagination. His strengths were in runecasting and magic and…other unmentionable fields of the paranormal.

Mr. Cinders, however, appeared to be extremely adept at the sword, and quickly pushed the advantage.

Hanna retreated in response. With a thought, though, an orange blast shot out of his hammer and wrapped around the blade of the sword.

With a sudden flick, the sword had cut through the orange energy-vine and Mr. Cinders pulled himself into a defensive stance.

"Mister Cross, this isn't any fun. I was expecting fireworks and demon-summons by now."

"I'm just getting warmed up."

"Do you think Hanna'll be OK on his own?" Toni asked, her canine voice more growly, but still feminine. She loped gracefully beside Conrad and Worth, who were struggling to keep up.

It was the first time Worth had seen Toni as a werewolf, but if he had to describe her, he's say she was the ultimate hybrid of Remus Lupin and Jacob Black.

If she were to assume a sort of standing/slumping walk on her back legs, in that 'crouch' she would be six feet tall at the shoulder. If she stood to her full height she would undoubtedly be eight or nine feet tall. Her fur was a feathery blue that shone silver, and upon closer inspection, she appeared to be wearing a necklace of some sort.

After following the crane through the indicated door, they emerged into a hallway. It was long, white, and totally blank of any useful information.

There was a door every six feet or thereabouts on both sides of the hall, but the Crane buzzed by them all without hesitation.

The hallway split in two directions, and the crane turned right.

The right turn quickly led to a dead end.

That was when they encountered the monster.

It was a hulking, snarling, mutant. It looked like it had walked right out of an evil scientist's lab. And who knew? Maybe it had.

It had a miniature bulldozer shovel as its right arm. Its left arm was a bouquet of tentacles. It appeared to be a slime covered yeti of sorts. Except for the ram's horns that adorned its head. And the fact that it breathed fire.

With a yelp, Toni pushed her friends out of the way of the inferno, and immediately launched herself at the abomination.

It moved to clobber her with its shovel claw, but she was far too agile. After leaping off of it, she brought down her seven-inch long claws down across its eyes.

It roared furiously and spat out more fire, and the rapid movement of the tentacles proved it was pissed off. They wrapped around Toni instantly and began to choke the life out of her.

She growled furiously and sank her teeth into the writhing mass. One released her, but there were still too many!

Conrad was panicking –what could he do? – when the sudden roaring of…a saw? He turned around to see Worth charging forwards carrying a bone-saw. Like, a serious bone saw one would think only existed in video games.

Worth, standing on his tippy toes and reaching as high as he could, cut through half of the tentacle-arm.

Toni was dropped, but she took the landing well, sliding effortlessly into a crouch, snarling ferociously.

"Look, Fagula, yer a vampire. You have super human strength and speed – put it to fucking use!" Worth shouted over his shoulder at Conrad.

"I – I can't! I can't – I can't!"

"Yes you can! Are you ready for this pep talk, Connie, cuz it's gonna be short-n-sweet. I-fucking-belive-in-you. There – you heard me, now help us!"

Mildly stunned by the kind words, already doubting their sincerity, Conrad tried to grasp the situation.

Toni was up and _ripping the things right arm out of its socket_. What was left of the tentacles were quickly maneuvering to strangle Worth.

OK, I can do this. Conrad sprinted as fast as he possibly could – and holy shit he knocked Worth out of the way of tentacle-death just in time.

Conrad had seen Casimiro and Finas tear Adelaide apart with their bare hands. Surely Conrad could do the same?

He took a deep breath and glomped onto one of the slippery tentacles. Finding purchase on its suction-cups, Conrad twisted it savagely until it simply tore apart and dropped uselessly to the ground.

Briefly shocked by his success, the other tentacles wrapped around him, and then mercilessly beat him repetitively upon the ground.

There was the roar of the bone-saw, and what was left of the tentacle arm was shorn off; terrible oatmeal-like blood drooled out of the wounds.

Conrad scrambled out of the mess of still writhing appendages – shocked that he was unbroken – maybe being a vampire had its advantages. He was just in time to see Toni rake her claws across its face, this time taking its eyes and a disgusting amount of slimy skin off.

With an agonized moan, the behemoth shuddered in its last death throes, and then slumped to the ground in gurgling defeat.

"Toni, you hurt?" Worth demanded, returning to his satchel. "Good job, Fagula." He added, and Conrad couldn't decide if it was grudging, sincere, or both.

"My throat aches, but it's fine." Toni's voice was raspy, but she looked otherwise unscathed. Her fur was sticking up at odd angles too.

They looked around for the crane, and found it hovering over the mutant's corpse.

"Oh hell no – there's no way zombie-dude was part of that…thing!" Conrad exclaimed.

Still the crane hovered over its body.

"Maybe the monster was protecting something." Worth looked around, but there were no doors in the dead end hallway.

"Maybe there's a trap door like from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone!" Toni shouted, and she suddenly put her own considerable weight into shoving the carcass away.

Surely enough, when the body was cleared, the crane darted down to the floor. An almost invisible trap door was engraved into the floor. It was about five in length and six feet in width.

"Stand back." Toni instructed. She curled her paws into a fist, and then brought them down savagely on the trap door. It splintered beneath the impact and fell to pieces.

The reek of death poured out of the hole in the ground.

Toni and Conrad's sensitive noses were offended the most, and they shrank back in disgust.

A raspy, snarly sound – like choking screaming – suddenly poured out of the hole as well.

Doc Worth carefully poked his head over the hole, and could only stare in shock.

The trap door led to a pit full of zombies.

"Fuck."

Toni and Conrad also leaned over the edge and gasped in surprise.

The pit was surprisingly large, and it held some thirty zombies, at least. The pit looked like it had originally been sterile and white, but now it was stained red and brown from blood.

Various human skeletons lay at the feet of the flesh-eating undead.

They were all in various states of decay, with different colored glowing eyes, red was the predominant color. Blood and stitches and torn clothing adorned their emaciated, horrific forms.

They gathered beneath the trap door, and the trio realized with horror that they were waiting for something to be thrown into the pit for dinner. They snarled waspishly, staring upward at the three of them hungrily.

And huddled in the furthest corner, staring vacantly at the wall, with his hands covering his ears, was _their_ zombie.

Orlando felt an involuntarily shudder work up his spine again. He was nauseous, and had finally stopped dry-heaving an hour ago.

The sight would haunt him forever. The man screaming and begging, his flailing arms and legs as he was dropped into the pit of hungry, welcoming mouths. He shuddered again.

Obrecht had tried to save him, to wrench him out of the grasp of the horde, but...

And the _sound_ of the man's screams as they reached an agonized, frenzied pitch, begging, raw animal howls of agony. The sound of his arms and legs being torn off. His skull being broken in, the sight of a ring of zombies battling for the prized brain.

The sound of clothes being easily torn asunder, and then the sound of tearing flesh. Blood and entrails splayed everywhere, the zombies tearing the muscles off of bone.

And the smell – it was coppery blood, putrid acids and bladder, like rotting skin and compost, decaying corpses licking the blood off the ground - the stink of death surrounded him, stained him.

He shuddered.

Something landed on Adrian's nose; something light-weight and papery feeling. He plucked it away with one hand, and stared in astonishment.

It was the autumn-red crane that had reminded him of Hanna's hair.

_Hanna?_

"Zombie-dude!"

He finally dared to look at the trap door. And although it was not the sight of his red head to greet him, seeing Conrad, Toni as a werewolf, and Worth staring at him worriedly was almost as good. But not really. At all.

"Toni what are you doing?"

"This'll send them into a feeding frenzy, right? Then we can rescue him."

"Err…"

An enormous tentacle and slime covered arm fell through the splintered trapdoor.

The zombies rushed upon it fanatically and began to rip it apart.

"Zombie, get over 'ere, Toni can reach down and grab ya!" Worth shouted into the pit.

Dietrich stood up slowly, the nauseous feeling had redoubled in his empty stomach.

_Concentrate._ He stumbled over to stand just outside the ring of feasting zombies.

"All right," Toni reached down a long arm which ended in a human-ish paw. "Hurry, before they notice what we're up to."

Sebastian, standing on tip toes, wrapped his stitched up hands around Toni's wrists. "Ready."

With a mighty heave Toni pulled their friend out of the pit and back out into the obnoxiously white hallway.

Arcangelo didn't have time to thank her, though.

"Shit!" Toni cursed. She seemed to convulse in on herself, and with a graceful leap she was suddenly hiding behind the rest of the mutant corpse.

"Toni, what's wrong?" A very disturbed and grossed out looking Conrad asked.

"I knew this was going to happen!" But her voice had lost its canine rasp. "I – I can't hold the form because my pendant is broken!"

"What…?"

"Look, Worth, can I have your coat? I'm kind of naked over here."

"Why yes, I'd be happy to go over there and give you my coat…" Worth leered, already shrugging off his fur coat and folding it up into a ball.

"No, you perv! Just throw it over here!"

"Feh, fine." Worth flung his coat over the mutant's body, and they saw Toni's hand quickly grab it.

She emerged a few moments later with the white-fur coat zipped up to her neck, and padding barefooted over to them.

"Actually, this thing is really comfortable. I might just have to keep it," Toni said teasingly, feeling the fur collar with one hand.

Conrad couldn't quite help but think that it looked better on Worth.

"Where is Hanna?" Came the serious voice of Domenico.

"He's fighting Mr. Cinders."

"I need to go help him, now." He stood up impatiently.

"Errr, Hanna told us to go find you, Veser, his parents, and the pelt."

"Where-is-Hanna?" Carl looked deadly serious.

"T-This way!" Conrad hesitantly led them back to the door, always weary for another monster attack.

Schultz opened the door, the rest of the group crowded around him, and did their best to suddenly grasp the situation.

"Your friends are surely dead by now." Mr. Cinders cackled, swiping his sword easily through another tidal wave of magic meant to sweep him into unconsciousness.

Mr. Cinder's sword did seem to have one special property: it could cut through magic, through a spell, and batted away blasts of magical energy like a baseball player.

Every time Hanna tried to trap him and cage him, Mr. Cinder would cut through the magic like a knife through butter, and then resume their defensive-offensive dance.

Hanna was panting and becoming exhausted, his blood was corrupted through his overuse of the wrong kind of magic. As he tired his concentration slipped, and the void behind his staples pressed against him, begging to be released.

"You underestimate me, and them." He gasped out.

The door his friends had disappeared through earlier opened, and Hanna spared it a glance.

But his eyes froze to the sight of Haydn and his beautiful orange eyes.

_Relief_ poured through Hanna, and _sheer joy and all encompassing love_! They were alive! He was still dead, but alive! Unadulterated bliss surged through every vein in his body.

Hanna had always channeled rage, hatred, and revenge. It was what Master Ilmace had taught him, after all, and it was unfortunately sort of reliable. But he'd never thought it would be possible to channel his happiness, his joy, his hope and love and wishful thinking into that void behind the staples. He hadn't become a hollow shell of a boy to be happy, but to use his anger, his despair, as a weapon, but now – seeing Mason alive – he grinned in glee and let the power stir and stretch its way out triumphantly into his rune-coated body.

The sword plunged easily into Hanna's torso.

Mr. Cinders was shocked, though, because he did not feel it go through organs, but through empty space. _He's empty on the inside?_

Just as he was about to pull his sword free, his opponent grasped the blade with both hands and kept it implanted in his stomach.

Hanna's voice was strained when he spoke, "Like I said, Mr. Cinders. You underestimate me."

The world faded to white, and Mister Aaron Cinders knew no more.

Isaiah had entered just in time to be a distraction for Hanna. Their eyes met for an instant…

…and suddenly there was a sword in Hanna's gut.

Hanna said something to Mr. Cinders, and then the room exploded into blinding whiteness.

Hanna almost didn't dare to open his eyes. _Oh shit, what was I thinking! I never should've let it out! Oh please don't let him be dead, please don't let them be dead, please, please, please,_ Hanna kept up his inner mantra as he squinted open his eyes.

Mr. Cinders lay unmoving on the ground. Hanna waited, every fiber focusing on the man – and there! Mr. Cinders' chest rose and fell slowly – he was still breathing! He was still alive! Thank goodness!

Hanna quickly turned his attention to his other friends, hoping there hadn't been any ill-consequences for them. They were all breathing – even Vincenzo (who had once told Hanna that although he often forgot to blink, breathing was a life-sustaining reflex that he could not stop doing).

He took an extra moment to soak in the sight of Berlioz.

And then he finally tore the sword from his body and flung it aside.

But where were Veser and his parents? And the pelt?

Hanna was very aware of the blood sliding down his chest and back, where the sword had sliced right through him. But his spine was fine, and the ribs were fine, and heck, Hanna had a very unique body, it was really only a flesh wound.

He tried to wake Worth up first. "Worth, c'mon, I could really use some stitches here!" Hanna shook the doctor a few more times, and finally the blonde groggily sat up.

"What the fuck did ya jus' do, Hanna?" he growled, then immediately turned serious and dug into his satchel.

Hanna was grateful that no one else was awake for this little conversation.

"Is it just a skin wound?" Worth asked, pulling out some wrap-around bandages.

Hanna pulled off his long sleeve shirt easily to let Worth see the situation.

All the staples were still in place – Hanna congratulated himself on managing to keep it pretty controlled, this time.

There was only the bleeding hole the sword had punctured through him.

The hole in his skin allowed Worth a rare glimpse as to what was really behind the staples.

A gaping black void lay just beyond the skin. Worth swallowed, and then applied the anti-bacterial-and-something-extra salve to the wounds. After that, he began to wrap the bandages around Hanna's chest and back.

"How c'rrupted is yer blood?" he asked.

"Pretty well tainted, but I'm gonna be fine." Was Hanna's happy assurance. Worth had made a career of telling when Hanna was lying, but right now, the red head was surprisingly honest.

"Thanks, Worth, but I think I'll need those magic-booster-shots of yours later." Hanna turned to look at the rest of their sleeping friends, "Let's wake them up!"

Hanna pulled his long sleeve shirt on while Worth moved over to Conrad. In typical Worth style, the doctor began to shout obscenities into the vampire's ears.

Conrad almost gagged upon waking up; the reek of death was pungent and nauseating, and it was coming from Hanna, again.

Hanna smiled as he simultaneously shook Toni and Brutus awake.

They came-to foggily and disorientated. The enormous magical attack Hanna had let loose would've knocked anyone out.

Mikhail instantly centered on the red head.

"Hanna, you're hurt." He looked from Doc Worth to Hanna, eyeing the blood stains on Hanna's shirt.

"Nope! It's just a flesh wound!" Hanna said cheerfully.

Before Moreau could protest further, the red head pulled him into a hug.

"I was really worried about you, bro." Hanna murmured, clinging to his friend.

Ruggero instinctively returned the hug, resting his chin on top of Hanna's red mane. He let a pent up sigh of anxiety out, and relaxed into the embrace.

Hanna's stomach fluttered, and for a moment he was worried the void inside him was trying to surge to life once more, but then he realized it was just the regular nervousness. Funny, why should he be nervous about giving Niccolo a very long and intimate hug….

Wait a second. _I've never been able to channel my positive feelings before. But just now I used overpowering love to direct my powers. … And I wanted to hold Sergei's hand that one time, and I always want to hug him and never let go and feel sort of jumpy and nervous about it, and I've never been able to channel_ loveuntil I was looking right into his orange eyes.

_Holy shit!_ Hanna jumped out of the hug as if electrocuted. _There's no way that I could…No. Way._

Camille stared at him, his orange gaze worried. "Hanna?"

"You have more stitches on your neck!" Hanna proclaimed, and it was a pretty good way to divert attention back to his zombie.

"Mr. Cinders had to stitch my head back on after Mrs. Hatch cut it off." He explained.

"Mrs. Hatch cut your head off?" Hanna shouted.

"Yes, she attacked Veser and I. She easily incapacitated us both and took us here. Veser and I were separated."

"Well, we'd better go find him! C'mon!" Hanna perkily bounced to his feet, shoving any and all of those thoughts far, far away, and gravitated towards the aquarium behind Mr. Cinders' desk.

Giacomo followed after, completely unwilling to part from his red head. But as they stood before the aquarium together Hanna seemed to scoot away from him. Puzzled, he sent another concerned glance towards his friend.

Toni approached Mr. Cinders' body and poked it.

"Is he dead?" she asked neutrally.

"Nah, I have a strict no-killing policy, like Batman." Hanna easily replied. He refocused his attention on the aquarium before him.

He began to knock on the glass loudly, and all the fish scattered away from him. He craned his neck to look upward, and saw that from this angle the aquarium appeared to actually be much taller, and that the wall simply obscured its true depths.

"Hanna, what are you doing?" Jacques asked, brushing their shoulders together intentionally. Hanna jolted away from him, and his face reddened. Was Hanna…flustered? He fingered the autumn-red crane in his pocket wonderingly.

"I just think this thing is bigger than it looks." Hanna kept rapping on the glass.

Finally there was the sound of a lot of water displacing, and a dim figure emerged amongst the kelp.

Veser pressed his face against the glass.

"Holy shit, man, stop scaring me!"

Veser's sharp teeth and amazingly green eyes looked even more frightening under water. Veser stared out at them in wonder from the aquarium, and gestured upward with his hand. He kicked off the bottom and swam upwards and out of sight.

"Okay – Veser is being kept in an aquarium thing, so let's start looking for a door!" Hanna pranced away from his zombie companion and over to Mr. Cinders body, where he retrieved the elongated hammer.

Hanna stared thoughtfully down on the body. With a small shrug he turned away, he agreed with his earlier split-moment conclusion.

Let the punishment fit the crime. Hanna usually applied that creed to whatever villains he encountered. And so with Mr. Cinders, who had collected and dissected the supernatural beings of this world in order to gain knowledge, Hanna had in turn stripped him of all knowledge and memories, and had left in its place the over powering desire to help people.

Hanna tucked the hammer away and proceeded towards the door next to Mr. Cinders' desk.

His friends gathered around him, Giuseppe was hovering anxiously at his shoulder, and Hanna felt another blush begin to work its way up his face.

Upon opening the door he observed the long hallway filled with doors.

"Alright, I'm gonna go through each and every one of these."

"What do you expect to find?" Toni asked.

Hanna looked grim once more, and angry, "I expect to find a lot of poor, helpless people behind these doors."

Hanna opened the first one on the left.

Only the light from the doorway illuminated the completely darkened room.

On the floor lay a shivering, convulsing woman.

She wore a white hospital gown that actually seemed gray in comparison to her inhumanely pale skin.

She had thigh-length black hair which was loose and strewn all about her, cloaking her face.

Hanna immediately knelt, but kept his distance.

"Miss, my name is Hanna Falk Cross, and I'm here to help you." Hanna's voice was compassionate and sad. "Miss, please look at me and tell me what Mr. Cinders did to you so I can help you."

The woman froze absolutely, and suddenly she crammed herself into the corner of her cell. She hid her face and sobbed.

"Eruh, Toni, could you…?" Hanna bit his lip and looked between her and the sobbing woman.

Toni nodded and approached her carefully, also kneeling.

"Hello. My name's Toni, please tell us what's wrong." She said gently, daring to lay a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Please don't kill us." She finally burst out, still hiding her face. "Please!"

"We would never hurt you, please tell us what's wrong." Toni continued, rubbing her hand soothingly on the woman's convulsing back.

"Did he take any powers away from you, Miss? Did he steal your magic or anything like that?" Hanna asked tentatively, fearing the worst of what Mr. Cinders had actually been doing.

"He k-killed them all, and then he w-wouldn't let them come back to us." Her voice was strangled and choked on her sobs.

Finally she looked up, her black hair parted around her face, and she stared directly at Hanna.

Her face was white – almost translucent. There were shadows around her hopeless, jet black eyes, which were puffy and red from crying. She was terrified, and despairing, and looked so, so tired.

"We're so sorry, please forgive us!"

The world dropped away. Suddenly he was five again, and this woman was begging for forgiveness as she carried away four blood-soaked daggers.

Hanna returned the stare, his mouth gaped in shock.

"You…" he whispered breathlessly. "You…"

"We're sorry, we're sorry!"

Hanna didn't dare to pull her into the hug that he wanted to give her, to let her know that truly, all was forgiven.

"I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago." He murmured. "I was afraid I'd never get the chance to tell you. Was Mr. Cinders the one who was threatening your family?" Hanna asked, staring into her face. It was her. It was absolutely her.

"No. They, they killed our family anyways, and then threw us to – to!" She trailed off and looked away. "We never dreamed that one of them would forgive us." She muttered, a fresh stream of tears working down her pale face.

"Hanna, you'd better lemme take a look at 'er." Worth said, looking at his newest patient uneasily.

"C'mon, let's get you out into the light, hm? Maybe you can have another family." Hanna helped her to stand.

Hanna knew that what he just said probably didn't make a lot of sense to the others, but by family, he knew she was really talking about her spiders.

She slid upwards carefully against the wall, bracing herself there with her arms. She was only a couple of inches taller than Hanna, and was inhumanly skinny.

"Worth, take care of her, would you? I need to check behind the rest of these doors." Hanna made eye contact with her once more, "We'll talk later, K? For now, could you tell me your name?"

"Our…name?" she asked, staring at Hanna as if… as if…

Weber couldn't help himself. His stomach had tied itself into terrible, writhing knots. He hated her. He pitied her, but he hated her. How did Hanna know her? How come she got to know Hanna's past when Sullivan didn't?

She was staring at Hanna like he was a…savior, of sorts.

She swallowed down another sob. "No outsider has ever asked for our name before."

Hanna grinned widely, "Well I am!"

"We called ourselves Mother, while we had a family. But now we have none."

"We'll call you Kasa then, OK?" She stared at him in shock. He continued, "Worth is gonna take care of you. I know he looks scary, but trust me, he's just a teddy bear."

And so 'Kasa' was carefully led back into the large office room, and Worth began to ask her questions; Conrad was surprised with how gentle-sounding the blonde was.

When the door closed behind them everyone turned and bored their questioning gazes into Hanna.

The red head smiled, as if in a trance. "I only met her once before." Hanna explained wistfully, "But I always hoped to run into her again."

"How did you meet?" Conrad asked.

Hanna grinned again, "None of your beeswax man!" And with that Hanna dashed to the next door and laid his hand on the knob.

He did not open that door.

He pressed a hand to his stomach and clapped another hand to his mouth. Hanna fought back the sudden need to throw up, even as the _cold_ of the doorknob seemed to contaminate his hand and heart.

He realized absently that he was crying – _God, what a wuss I am_ – and turned resolutely away from the door. Still, in this case there was nothing to be ashamed about crying for the poor creature behind that door.

"Hanna?" Strauss had a hand resting on his back, and oh goodness that just made his stomach roll even more.

Hanna took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "There's nothing we can do for what's behind that door." Hanna sniffled, and wiped his eyes. "That fucking bastard _butchered a unicorn._"

Hanna staggered away from the door, and the nausea receeded.

The next room was blessedly empty. As was the next.

But then they opened a door that led to a curious person.

He looked convincingly human, except for the tiny horns poking out of his hair, and the mouthful of fangs.

He was dressed in a grungy hospital-prison gown, and looked completely listless and hopeless.

He looked over at them vaguely, and his eyes looked confused.

"Cinders?" he hissed, searching their faces.

"No, I'm Hanna Cross, and I'm here to help you. Cinders has been defeated."

The man stood up wearily. "I don't need your help, but thanks anyways." And he stumbled out of the room and made towards the exit. Undoubtedly Worth would waylay him before he left.

In this fashion they released a shapeshifter, who almost tore Hanna's head off, a mated pair of tanuki, a Doppleganger, a faerie with broken wings which Hanna mended with a rune (in gratitude she promised to help him if he was ever in a bind and needed some unique faerie magic), and a small menagerie of various nature-sprites.

They also came across four human corpses. Three of them were just starting to decay, but one was perfectly preserved, as if frozen.

"I think this is the guy Tibenoch wanted brought back to life." Hanna muttered, looking the frozen man over.

The man was lying on top of a bed. He wore clothes eerily similar to Mr. Tibenoch's: a gray vest over a white shirt, a black tie, black slacks, and he had a chain leading out of one pocket, but where a pocket-watch might've attached the chain was empty.

Hanna swallowed, looking solemn once more. "I guess I'll have to tell Mr. Tibenoch…" With a heavy sigh Hanna turned away from the dead man once more.

They also found a closet-full of strange and terrible items. (Hanna almost vomited again).

That was where they found the seal pelt.

It was large and bulky; the fur was sleek silver with dappled black spots. Lex offered to carry it.

And an ominously silent pocket watch. Hanna could only surmise it belonged to Mr. Tibenoch's friend, and so he tucked it away in a pocket.

Strangely enough, most of the magical creatures they encountered left with a small 'thanks' and then disappeared. They seemed completely unconcerned about how they had exactly been freed or what Hanna had to do with it.

Hanna, however, quickly dismissed their ingratitude with what was apparently the magical unwritten rule of 'don't ask unless you _really_ wanna know', the equivalent of 'deniability'.

When Hanna came across the dead monster that Worth, Toni, and Conrad had killed, he heaped praise onto them. (Oh my god I wish I could've been there you guys must've kicked some serious ass like awesome too cool so Conrad you finally used your vampire strength that's great!)

But when Hanna looked down into the pit full of zombies, his expression immediately darkened. He quickly did a search of the faces – those that could be discerned, some were too decayed to be identified – and was relieved when he didn't recognize any of them.

Alban looked even more expressionless than usual; Hanna had become an expert at reading his zombie's feelings. Hanna knew that Luciano had seen Mr. Hatch torn apart and eaten, and he meant to broach the subject at a later time.

Still, despite the electricity the contact sent up his arm, he lightly rested a comforting hand on Ethan's shoulder for a heartbeat, before quickly removing it.

"I'm going to get rid of them." Hanna said decisively, looking down into the pit with determination.

"How?" Toni asked, "You don't plan on going down there, do you?"

"Nope. The best way to fight zombies is with fire." Hanna pulled out his marker and scribbled a squiggly, styled flame onto his palm. He turned to the mutant corpse still oozing nearby. With obvious revulsion, Hanna scribbled several matching flames onto the gooey flesh of the monster.

"Alright, let's push this thing in." he said, and Hanna began to shove the mutant in the direction of the trapdoor. Julio didn't hesitate to help, and Toni followed a moment later.

"There's no way we can move that thing!" Conrad yelled, staring incredulously at the enormous corpse and his straining friends.

"Conrad – vampire strength? Remember?" Hanna grunted.

"Oooh, y-yeah." Conrad frowned, then joined Hanna and the others. _I can do this. I can do this!_ Conrad focused all his strength into his arms, and the mutant corpse instantly started to move.

"Oh, wow! I actually did it!" Conrad smiled, grunted, and then shoved the monster remains down the trapdoor.

"Good job Conman! Awesome!" Hanna grinned.

The sound of snarling, scraping mouths tearing the corpse apart shattered the good mood.

The four of them leaned over the pit to see the zombies ripping it apart.

Hanna swallowed, naeusous, and quickly looked at Randolf's reaction. There was no mistaking the guilty, sickened look that dampened the zombie's orange eyes.

Hanna struck his arm out over the pit, the squiggly fire on his palm burned red. "Watch out guys, this might get hot."

Hanna clenched his fist.

Instantly the monster's corpse, and all of the tissues that the zombie's had already swallowed, burst into flames.

Instantly Hanna felt fatigue and weariness sink into his bones. He'd been pushing off the exhaustion that always inevitably followed using his unique ability. Now it had caught up to him. For a moment he was glad that no one, not even Dwayne, was paying attention to him. It gave Hanna enough time to collect himself and will away the desire to pass out then and there.

Then the zombies started to howl and claw at their skin as fire consumed them from the inside-out. Their shrieks were horrifying, and Hanna quickly stood up (too quickly – his head spun, but no one noticed) and briskly walked away, escaping the macabre sounds.

Antonio was at his side, still looking sick, for once he hadn't noticed Hanna's rapidly failing strength. Toni and Conrad followed, looking grossed out and grim.

Hanna dared to touch his zombie's arm, and sent his friend a quick grin. Despite his own deadly exhaustion, Hanna worried more about his friend than himself. Bongo's expression softened, and Hanna relaxed a little. Still, they'd have to have a talk about the whole situation later.

So it was with under very grim and somber circumstances that they finally opened a door that led to a staircase, and at the top of the staircase lay a dazzling indoor pool, three women, and Veser.


	8. Foreground: Bittersweet

**Chapter 7 has been revised. Namely, the ending has changed a little bit, and it effects the shit in this chapter a little.**

Disclaimer: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name belongs to the amazing, the stunning, the grand, the divine Tessa Stone. Worship her.

* * *

The pool was surrounded by white tiles and two metal benches. It even had a little ladder that led off into its watery depths.

Two women were chained to one bench; they looked impossibly sad.

Veser and Mrs. Hatch sat together on the other bench, looking awkward, but calmer than Hanna would've imagined; Veser was still wet from his dip in the pool nearly an hour ago.

Upon seeing Hanna Veser stood up and marched towards them.

"About fucking time! I was wondering if you'd ever show up!" He noticed their unusually sorrowful expressions.

"What happened? Where's Worth?" Veser looked quickly between Hanna and Conrad for an answer.

"Oh no he's fine. He's just taking care of some of the other people that were trapped here." Hanna explained.

"Is that your mom?" Toni asked, glancing to the brunette sitting on the bench – she shared Veser's startlingly green eyes – and was currently sending a death glare to Bud.

"Hey, Chiron, hand Veser the pelt." Hanna said, and Ferruccio carefully transferred the large seal skin over to Veser, who looked a little confused.

"You hired me to find the skin, so there ya go!" Hanna beamed, and it looked filled with benign wisdom. "Now it's your decision what to do with it."

Veser huffed, then promptly returned to Mrs. Hatch and dumped the pelt in her lap.

"There. You're free." Veser grumbled succinctly.

Mrs. Hatch looked at him suspiciously, like she couldn't quite believe there were no strings attached, even as her hands petted her pelt worshipfully.

"Look, not all humans are bastards like Dad, OK?" Veser said.

She looked at her son with a new light, and her murderous edge seemed to soften.

Mrs. Hatch reached out a hand and rested it directly over Veser's heart.

"I believe you. You have my blessing. Come visit me in the Pacific sometime." And with that Mrs. Hatch stood up, clung to her pelt defensively, and left.

Veser was strangely still and silent.

Then in an instant he was kicking off his shoes and leaping headlong into the pool.

Mrs. Hatch's 'blessing' confirmed Hanna's suspicions; that she had held off on giving him any selkie-magic because she thought he would be an incurable bastard like his father.

Veser was only half-selkie, but even the incomplete transformation into a grey reef shark was a sight to behold.

From his waist down Veser's legs suddenly bound together. Gray, scaly, shark skin grew over them as his knees and human bones simply morphed into the shark's cartilage. His feet sharpened and stretched into the side-to-side swishing tail of the shark. A first and second dorsal fin sprung up on his back, and gill openings appeared just above his waistline, and pectoral fins grew just below it.

Later Veser assured them that it was actually painless, but seeing the transformation for the first time was both amazing and gruesome.

Veser Amaker Hatch was a sharkboy. A merman. Whatever. It was fucking awesome.

The epic moment was sort of ruined when the other two women suddenly burst into tears.

Hanna was quickly at their side, "What's wrong? What did Mr. Cinders do to you?"

One was a blonde, the other had black hair, and they wore the hospital-prison gowns with bare feet. They strained at their chains to reach the water.

"We're mermaids…" the black-haired one said, ripping her intense gaze away from the water and staring at Hanna.

Hanna grinned, "That's so cool. Stay still while I break these things off you, K?"

Hanna pulled out the hammer (which had since returned to its normal size) and applied some magical crowbar work to the chains around their feet.

Hanna's vision blurred and grayed around the edges. Dizziness assaulted him, and only his willpower kept him standing. _Shit, my blood must be more corrupted than I thought._

Conrad silently gagged as Hanna's horrific stench got even worse, if possible. But he didn't want to offend or worry anyone, since Hanna still looked fine – like, not keeling over or fainting or anything. He kept his personal discomfort to himself.

The moment they were free of their shackles, the women surged into the pool. They immediately transformed into beautiful mermaids with sparkling tails.

The three merpersons then vanished into the depths of the aquarium.

"When they get out of there they're gonna need some clothes." Hanna briskly hurtled himself down the staircase, trying to hide his utter exhaustion behind his usual hyperactivity. "So let's go back to that closet thing and get some." Manuel followed after him.

Of course all they found were more of the hospital-prison gowns, but for now it would just have to do.

When they returned they found the three sea-creatures once more lying outside the pool, talking together.

"Yes, you must sun yourself until you are completely dry, then you become human." The blonde was saying, lazily swishing her shimmering red tail back and forth.

The black vest that Veser had been wearing was torn up the back by his dorsal fin. His jeans and socks were completely obliterated.

The black-haired mermaid played a little with her soaking hair. "I can't wait 'till we get to the ocean, Karine, until we get back home."

"Yes, Lorel. It's going to be wonderful to finally see our families again." The blonde, Karine, agreed.

"Here's some clothes for when you guys have legs again!" Hanna set them down next to the three merpeople, then sunk down gratefully on one of the metal benches. His tiredness crept up around him; he could feel it dragging down his suddenly heavy eyelids.

Stanley sat down next to him, still unwilling to be too far away from his red head. The electric presence of his friend kept Hanna alert, and he continued to hide his bone-deep weariness.

"How did you find us?" Zoltan asked, removing the autumn-red crane from his pocket and carefully turning it over in his hands.

"Welll, remember the paper-crane guide spell? Well I changed it up so that instead of a mental guide leading your conscious out of your own mind, that it would guide us to your physical body. After that we just followed it here." Hanna said it so easily, so nonchalant.

"What happened back there, with Mr. Cinders?" Ervin closely watched as Hanna's body tensed. He continued, "He stabbed you with his sword," he was surprised to hear his own voice come out strangled and extremely worried sounding, "Then we're all waking up and you say your fine."

"Whoah-whoah-whoah. Back up there, did you say Cinders stabbed Hanna with a sword?" Veser exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the perfectly healthy looking red head.

Now that all attention was riveted on Hanna, he shrank back from their questioning eyes.

_Oh shit. I can't tell them about the scars or anything, think fast Hanna!_ "Er-uh-ya-see-it-was-a-uh-_really powerful_ like wave of magic that I just sort of like directed and channeled so yeah."

Hanna wouldn't meet anyone's eyes as he fidgeted nervously, twirling the hammer anxiously in his hands.

"_If you do not learn control you will be but a mindless pawn in someone else's game!"_

Hanna inadvertently tightened his grip on the hammer until his knuckles were white.

"I'm gonna go check on Worth and Kasa!" He jumped off the bench and flew once more out of the room, Dmitry hot on his heels.

* * *

"Hanna, explain what really happened, please." Witold noticed Hanna's brisk walked increased to an almost jog.

"Did you see Mr. Hatch get, yanno, eaten?" Hanna asked, his voice strained and not even attempting a smile.

"…Yes."

"Like I said, it was just a big surge of magic that I focused onto Mr. Cinders, that's it." Hanna bolted for the door that would lead to the end of their conversation.

This time Gian decided to push the issue. He reached an arm in front of Hanna and held the door shut.

The red head was stiff and positively radiating his nervous hostility.

Luke absently noticed that they were actually standing really close together now; Hanna's chest brushed against his arm, and due to his advantage in height, he hovered just above Hanna's head.

"Why didn't the sword injure you; does it have something to do with the scar you won't tell me about?" He kept his voice compassionate but serious.

_Which one?_ Hanna thought bitterly._ I keep lots of scars secret from you._

"I have my reasons for keeping this a secret, and for not telling you, or anyone." Hanna muttered aloud, and the coldness in his voice was like a slap in the face.

He tried one last entreaty. "Trust me, please." His earnest orange eyes probed Hanna for an answer.

But Hanna's face was expressionless.

He'd never thought he'd see the day when Hanna wasn't exploding with life and feeling, but now Hanna had withdrawn his heart from his sleeve, and he had caused it.

He retracted his arm, allowing Hanna the opportunity to leave.

"It's not personal, Dante, but there really are some things that are just better left unsaid." Hanna escaped through the door.

For an instant Oliver hesitated to follow.

Then he hurriedly caught up to Hanna and once more took up guard by his shoulder.

Kasa was sitting, leaning against the wall. She looked drowsy and sick.

Worth was smoking a cigarette a few feet away, looking pissed off and worried.

Hanna knelt down in front of her, smiling – and how could the smile possibly be real after the tense conversation they'd just had, but it was!

"How're you feeling, Kasa?" he asked.

"We are alone. We miss our family." Was the tiny, almost-not-there answer.

"Natch, when we get you back to Worth's you'll have a big family again, 'cause his place is like, crawling with spiders! He never cleans, seriously!" Hanna reassured, his face splitting into a grin.

"We thank you." She muttered. Then she seemed to lapse back into a despairing stupor.

Hanna chewed his bottom lip and turned to Worth. "Is she gonna be OK?" he asked, concerned. Hanna ran a hand over his hair, and then left his hand atop his head as though he had forgotten it mid-motion.

"Yeah, 'ventually, but why does she matter so much to ya?" Worth turned a critical eye to the red head. "She an ex a yours or summat?"

Hanna laughed – it was strangely empty sounding, not at all the laugh Darius loved – and quickly shook his head. "No, no, no. She's the one that-" and Hanna cut himself off.

Worth noticed the red head send a quick look towards the zombie.

The zombie looked angry.

Worth was surprised to find himself under the aggressive, accusatory orange glare. The zombie glanced from the woman to Worth, all the time looking agitated.

Worth raised a brow. _Jealous?_ He wondered.

Hanna rocked back and forth on his feet, and Worth sent a cursory look over his patient. Hanna looked a little fatigued, and that was probably only what he wanted to show Worth, the zombie, and everyone else.

"Here, kid, drink this." Worth handed Hanna a bubbly blue potion. He'd engineered it just for moments like this. He should almost feel guilty for what he was about to do, but somehow couldn't bring himself to feel more than regret for lying to Hanna.

"I'm not a kid Worth – I'm twenty-four!" Hanna downed the vial-full of sleep-inducing magical recovery stimulants. He passed the empty glassware back over. "Thanks, nobody makes a potion quite like you do, Worth!"

Worth had made this particular recovery potion to look like an energy booster, but in reality, it was going to put Hanna on the fast track for a much-needed healing sleep.

"What're ya gonna do with 'im?" Worth gestured with his cigarette to Mr. Cinders' body.

Hanna yawned, looked confused. "Oh, yah, I wiped his memories and made him want to help people. I think we should just," He yawned again, "Just drop him off at a hospital."

Hanna shook himself a little, then suddenly snapped his stare back to Worth.

"You didn't!" Hanna exclaimed, but the denial was ruined by another (adorable, in Igor's opinion) yawn.

"Sure did. Hanna, we can handle it from here. Jus' get some goddamn sleep, wouldja? And I mean _real_ sleep, not that fucking meditation shit you've been doin'. It ain't healthy."

Hanna shot him a horrified look. "How did you know about…?" he blinked slowly, already losing the fight against genuine, dream-filled slumber. "I don' wanna dream, Worth. The nigh'mares…" Hanna struggled to stay awake, to complete the thought, "They'll kill me."

And Hanna slumped over, but before his head could hit the ground Worth carefully caught him, looking down at the red head with fond exasperation. But mostly exasperation.

The zombie was kneeling beside them an instant later. Worth was surprised by the emotions on the other's face. He looked angry and worried and possibly ashamed.

The dead man looked from Hanna to Worth with confusion and curiosity.

"Meditation?" he asked.

"Hanna's been doin' meditation shit to replace sleeping. Thought he had me fooled, but enough's enough. After today, he needs some fucking sleep." Worth offered in brief explanation.

The zombie returned to staring at Hanna, still looking agitated and troubled.

"You two have an argument?" Worth asked, watching the zombie's expression. The shame and guilt apparent in the zombie's face were answer enough when he remained silent.

Worth scowled and handed Hanna over to the zombie. The undead man gratefully pulled the red head to his chest protectively.

"Whatever it is, just fuck and get over it. Hanna needs you." Worth glared at the zombie angrily, as if Hanna's condition were his fault. "Why didn't you stop 'im from exhausting himself?" Worth asked, glaring accusingly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're his goddamn pet, you should've noticed how weak he was gettin'. Or did his little act fool you?" Worth's stare had become a death-glare. "I can't always take care of the damn princess, and Hanna _won't_ take care of himself. So _you_ need to pay fucking attention to when he's lying and using magic and corrupting his blood!"

Worth finished his tirade by standing up, spitting out his cigarette, and stamping it out under his heel. He then lit up another and started aggressively puffing on it. After a few minutes he seemed calmer.

Hanna's 'best friend', his 'pet', still knelt, staring at the ground expressionlessly, even as he clutched Hanna tighter against him. _This is…all my fault._

Worth sighed noisily, expelling smoke. "I'll take them to the van." He growled, "You go get the others."

The zombie quickly shook his head. "No, Hanna's coming with me." He stood, picking Hanna up bridle style. He walked away quickly, eager to escape the damning, scorching truth Worth had thrown into his face.

Worth grumbled and began to pack up his satchel, now considerably lighter. He watched the zombie carefully carry Hanna as he exited the room. Worth shook his head, and then turned to help Kasa.

* * *

"Whoah what happened to Hanna?" Veser asked, tugging at the uncomfortable prison scrubs. The others gathered around the duo, looking concerned.

"Worth gave him something." Was his quiet answer. He turned and led the way back outside, glad to put the horrible building behind him.

Even with the addition of two mermaids, there was plenty of room in the van for Hanna to lie across one whole seat.

Ives rested Hanna's head on his lap, then as an afterthought removed his black coat and folded it into a pillow for the red head.

Worth, still glaring death and muttering curses, handed the zombie a packet of pills. "Make 'im take one when 'e wakes up." Kris tucked the pills away in a pocket.

He returned his anxious gaze down to the red head resting on his lap.

Without even having to think about it, it was a strangely pleasant instinct, Berg took hold of Hanna's hand and lightly squeezed. He indulged himself by lightly resting a hand in the red head's curly, tangled hair. _Like a lion's mane,_ he thought.

He stared at Hanna's exhausted, but oddly peaceful face, waiting for him to wake up. To his surprise Hanna leaned into his friend's touch, and his face looked very tired, but content.

The black-haired mermaid sitting with Toni in the seat in front of them turned around to ask if Hanna was doing OK, when she noticed the heart-warming display.

She wondered if she could distract the zombie from worrying with small talk, and so asked a fairly innocent question.

"How long have you two been together?" She asked, clearly implying 'together' as a romantic couple.

He looked up at her, confused, "We have been friends for a month now." he answered honestly.

He didn't miss the surprised, embarrassed expression that crossed her face.

"Oh, um, yes." She quickly glanced to Toni, who shook her head a little.

Then the werewolf also joined the conversation, "So, when are you going to tell him?" She asked, looking a little nervous but serious.

"Are you suggesting we're a couple?" He felt his insides twist warmly and the strangest sensation of almost-heat searing through his unbeating heart.

The two girls stared at him, their faces were mixed with incredulity and pity.

"I'm sorry," the dark haired mermaid said, "It's just the way you two act around one another, like there's no one else in the world, and the way you kept looking at each other – it's obvious he adores you." she finished hurriedly, looking awkward and embarrassed.

The undead man almost jumped in surprise when Hanna stirred in his lap, and he was simultaneously terrified and thrilled at the thought of Hanna having overheard. But instead the red head turned over on his side, facing his friend's stomach, still asleep.

"Have you thought about it?" Toni asked, watching the scene with an inward 'baaaww'. At his expressionless stare she elaborated. "I mean, are you looking for love now that you're undead and all?"

Honestly, hewas not. He had come to Hanna Falk Cross looking to move on with his new life, the memories of a past he couldn't return to anyways were just burdensome. He'd thought of being useful, of getting a job, or maybe at least some advice from the paranormal investigator.

He'd been surprised when Hanna jubilantly exclaimed how awesome he was and welcomed him into his home without a second thought.

No one before Hanna had been that outgoing and friendly; most just passed on with a raised eyebrow when they encountered his glowing orange eyes and green skin, but Hanna had enthusiastically pulled him into his world.

Now he focused everything on the red head. He often thought, how will this affect Hanna? Would Hanna like this? What should I cook for Hanna? Is this dangerous for Hanna? How can I protect Hanna?

And maybe Lees' ghost's obsessive love could be related to his relationship with Hanna, but…

And after he had been ensconced in the red head's world he had met many other unusual people who accepted him as a zombie and as a trusted friend. It was all thanks to Hanna.

He had never considered romance as a potential part of his undeath; who could ever love a zombie? He'd dismissed the idea as impossible and not even worth thinking about.

But Hanna was different; Hanna was kind, outgoing, hyper, mysterious, reckless, and…he stumbled over his next thought, well, Hanna _was_ attractive in an adorably-hot kind of way. Not that he'd noticed or anything. The image of Hanna's scarred chest flashed across his mind, confusing him. He absently wound his fingers through Hanna's curly mane, savoring the warmth that emanated from the red head.

And apparently Hanna 'adored him', if he took the mermaid's words as fact. But surely that was just hero worship; Hanna often described him as "awesome" and "so cool." It was flattering, but it was strictly platonic, of course.

And Hanna had seemed very, very lonely before the undead man had entered his life. Hanna was just overjoyed to have a friend. Yes, that was all. They shared a close friendship, but that was all.

Hanna was full of overabundant life, and he deserved someone living, not rotting.

Said object of his thoughts looped his arms around his zombie's waist and snuggled his face into the orange cloth of his shirt. His black tie hung rather cutely over Hanna's left ear.

His stomach did some curious double back flips in response.

But _if_ he _was_ looking for love, hypothetically speaking, of course…

…Hanna would be the only one he'd consider.

They left the mermaids at a bus stop which would take them to the docks.

Then Worth dropped Hanna and his zombie companion off, saying that Hanna should get as much sleep as possible.

Getting out of the van was surprisingly easy; as he simply transferred the arms Hanna had wrapped around his waist to around his neck, then picked the red head up bridal style again.

Juggling an armful of red head and opening the door was more difficult, but he managed, and sighed in relief when they were finally inside.

He immediately went to the mattress and laid Hanna down, but the young man would not unlock his arms from around his zombie's neck.

Cautiously, and with that curious warmth in his stone-dead heart, he pried Hanna's arms off. He plucked Hanna's glasses off and removed his shoes.

He then settled down at the foot of the mattress with a library book on Africa, but the words blurred in front of his eyes.

He found himself watching Hanna sleep without even realizing it. It was almost therapeutic, observing Hanna's even breaths and... disturbed expression?

Hanna twisted in his sleep, and curled into the fetal position.

"_I don't wanna dream, Worth. The nightmares…they'll kill me."_

He watched Hanna anxiously.

It would actually be the first time he'd seen Hanna have a nightmare. He was grateful his friend was not plagued by bad dreams, but also curious. Hanna refused to share the origin of his scars or his past with anyone, and he would assume this was because they were bad memories, but the chipper red head did not seem particularly troubled by them.

And yet Hanna feared dreams so much that he…'meditated'? The undead man didn't understand, he wanted to ask Worth, but…but he wanted Hanna to trust him enough to tell him.

He felt his insides twist unpleasantly, unexpectedly.

_Hanna will never trust me,_ he thought with despair.

He watched Hanna anxiously, and was grateful that he did not have to sleep, so that he could watch after his red head through the long night.

* * *

**Chapter Seven (7) has been revised! Go back and read the slightly-changed ending!**

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am grateful for Tessa Stone, JK Rowling, and every single review you give me! Happy Thanksgiving, and thank you for all your encouragement and criticisms!

{Insert a moving, heart-warming thank-you here.}

[Insert "Happy Turkey Day!" here]

[The enclosed space between these brackets has been intentionally left blank.]


	9. Foreground: Gravity

Merry Christmas, Happy New Years, etc. etc. etc!

Disclaimer: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name belongs to the inspiring, the fantabulous, the extraordinary Tessa Stone. Not me.

* * *

Hanna desperately chased the retreating darkness. That comfortable, relaxing void had been his once again, but now it had escaped!

Hanna's thoughts and memories clamored for attention. But he didn't want to think and analyze and pick his brain – he just wanted to _sleep_, even if it _was_ a nightmare, which it would undoubtedly be, Hanna just couldn't bare to focus on yet another horrific memory in hopes that some hidden clue would appear to him.

More than anything, he wanted that void, where he didn't have to think at all and felt so wonderful, so perfectly safe.

The first time he'd achieved that peaceful state had apparently been after coming home from breaking into Mr. Tibenoch's house – he still had to ask Sedaka how he had gotten home that night – and again after fainting from using too much magic, too quickly.

He thought he remembered Worth catching him after the second incident, which was disappointing because he'd rather it was Joel.

And speaking of Fogelberg…

Hanna purposefully dug through his memories, searching for evidence.

"_I didn't come so I could be alive again."_

"_It's OK. I think I'm fairly fresh. Like…only a decade of rot."_

"_Whu-what? Were you teasing me?"_

"_A little."_

"_No way! That's awesome! This is a whole new step in our friendship, I think!"_

"_Well. I feel a little guilty. I think it is a bit easier to forget then it is to be forgotten… I think I am a very different…someone than before. Not to say that I have abandoned it, but I can't expect what mattered to me then to retain its sentimental value…I'm sorry. Is that cold?"_

"_No! Just…kinda sad."_

"_But that's enough about me. What about your stitches? Are you okay?"_

"_Are you okay?"_

"_Me? You're the one who got possessed and-"_

"_I'm fine. Are you?"_

"_Are you alright, Hanna?"_

"_So you missed me too?"_

"_To say the least, Hanna."_

"_I treasure every gift you give me, Hanna."_

"_Trust me?"_

No, there was nothing to suggest Gilmore felt more than friendship for him. And Hanna was taken aback by the enormous stab of disappointment that shot through him at the thought.

Hanna had never had a crush on a guy before, well, maybe on Optimus Prime, but that didn't count. And his complete lack of luck with women had left him without much hope for any sort of romantic relationship. He was attracted to women, but he also felt embarrassed and kind of inferior around them. Like, I know I look like a fourteen year old geeky spazz, but please notice me!

But his best friend was different. Ian was cool and awesome! He was just epic at the hand-to-hand combat stuff, _especially when it's me he's protecting._ And when Hunter had stepped in between him and the furious Casimiro, he had felt so surprised, grateful, and safe.

Dewayne was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. And Hanna liked to think they were equals, after all, Hanna had saved Mitchell from Lee's possession. He felt relaxed when around his zombie companion, but jittery and hyper-happy whenever they went somewhere together (_Investigating a case is not the same thing as a date, Hanna, get a hold of yourself!) _or hugged or brushed against each other.

_When I look at him all I feel is this love and gratitude, and sort of butterflies under my staples nervousness. I've never been able to use love as a catalyst for my powers, but it was so very effective and easier to control compared to rage and despair._

Hanna mentally groaned; just look at the mess he'd gotten himself into this time: infatuated with his best friend, who would certainly never return the same feelings. Hanna wilted at the thought of unrequited love, but that just seemed like his luck anyways.

_I guess I'll just carry the torch until he leaves me alone again (and even after he's gone…). When he gets his memories back, he won't want to hang around here anymore. _Hanna secretly hoped, and felt guilty for hoping, that his beloved friend would never remember his past.

Hanna distanced himself from those thoughts and decided to 'wake up'. He sat up slowly, he noted with a little surprise he was once again back at the apartment, and looked for the center of his affection.

Jack's orange eyes were fixed on Hanna – who flushed under the gaze – and he immediately handed Hanna a pill and a bottle of water.

"What's this?" Hanna asked, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. "And what time is it?"

Leo waited for Hanna to actually swallow the pill before answering. "Worth wanted you to take one when you woke up. And it's almost 6:15."

Hanna shot out of bed and scrambled to pull on his shoes.

"6:15! I'm going to be late for work!"

"Hanna, it's Saturday."

"Whu-whoah, oh yeaaah." Hanna sat back down, looking perplexed. "Wow. 6:15 P.M.? I must've been reeaally tired."

Mario's worried expression twisted his heart. It was unbearable; the person he loved only thought of him as a reckless little brother.

Something of his inward turmoil must've shown on his face, because Alvin began to look even more concerned.

"I'm fine." Hanna tried to head off the questioning that was to come, but his voice betrayed him.

Octavius sent him a flat, "oh really?" look.

"Listen, about Mr. Hatch. Do you wanna talk about it?" Hanna diverted the conversation back to Todd.

"No."

"Okay, then I'll talk, and you listen: it was not your fault in any way. There was nothing you could've done to save him, OK? The zombies would've…" Hanna faltered, "They would've just torn you apart if you became a threat. So, don't blame yourself, okay?" He sent a searching gaze towards his zombie, who actually looked a bit startled. Hanna figured he'd hit the nail on the head. "And don't worry about it, alright? You'll never lose your humanity and become one of them. I trust you."

Agro stared unblinkingly at the incredible man before him. Hanna could be so completely oblivious sometimes, but then he would turn right around and perceptively offer kind words to heal doubts that were still only a terrible, foreboding inkling in his own mind.

He almost hated himself for breaking the comfortable silence, but a reaction was called for, and now he had another opportunity to delicately question his friend.

"But not enough, apparently."

"Buh. What?"

"You still won't tell me what you're planning. Even when I'm right there beside you, you just throw yourself into danger without talking to me. We're partners, but you still don't trust me."

"I trust you!" Hanna exclaimed. He trusted and depended on Steven more than anyone else – even Worth! Who was going to carry his broken and bleeding body back to the Doc? Who would be there for him when he was in trouble? Who else was Hanna passionately in love with?

"Then tell me what you're going to do _before_ you do it. It happened with Adelaide and you vomiting blood, and with Lee's ghost and that protection rune, and _letting yourself get stabbed with a sword!_" Forest cut himself off.

Hanna blinked, and a very long moment of silence passed. He had never heard Cedric sound so emotional. Love was a double edged sword: Hanna felt like scum for making his loved-one worry, but at the same time, he was overjoyed that Chang cared enough to get so upset.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry." Pause. "I'll try to do better, K? I'll try to fill you in before it all goes to hell in a wheelbarrow. Sorry." Hanna studiously stared at his worn, graying mattress.

He heard a sigh. "Hanna."

He looked up to see Avery spread his arms open. Hanna was confused, what did the gesture mean?

"Hug?" Donnell asked. And Hanna nearly did a double take – did Zane look…shy? No. Way.

Never one to deny a hug, even though his heart constricted because he knew it was only a platonic embrace, Hanna shuffled over to his friend and circled his arms around Marcel's back.

Hanna felt jagged ravines under Harley's shirt. _What…?_

Hanna dismissed his curiosity. Seriously, he could see the irony in him asking about Randall's injuries and then refusing to talk about his own. He would carefully and discreetly quiz his zombie later, at a better time.

He swallowed nervously and leant his face into Miles' orange shirt, until his face was pushed against his zombie's chest. He took a deep breath in through his nose.

"Hanna?" Kipp asked, looking down at his red head confusedly. "What are you…?"

"Making a memory." Hanna replied, softly, smiling. "Years from now, after you've left me, when I am old and gray I will remember my good friend Guadalupe and how he smelled like…" At this Hanna took another deep breath in through his nose – and Delmar's stomach did a curious double back flip.

"The earth…embalming stuff…" Hanna took another deep breath through his nose, "And almonds."

Amado had difficulty sorting through his emotions at that moment. He felt astonishingly human: warmth seeped through his twisting, fluttering insides, but he was also hurt and worried because Hanna thought he would leave. The zombie couldn't quite comprehend his own level of attachment to the red head yet, but the thought of leaving Hanna…for any reason or memory or person… it was inconceivable.

Hesitantly, he bent over and ensnared Hanna's thin waist with his arms. Lowering his head so that his nose hovered just in the crook of Hanna's neck, he inhaled deeply.

Hanna had frozen in the embrace, his heart was throbbing in his throat and he had stopped breathing. Earle's little puffs of breath on his neck sent shivers racing from his toes up his spine and into his cotton-candy-clouded mind. _Holy crap-holy crap-holy crap-_

"Markers…and pancakes." Denosovich reported, still holding onto Hanna delicately. "And there's no guarantee that I'll ever regain my memories."

Hanna pulled away from the hug too quickly, looking too bittersweet. "There's no guarantee that you won't either. And when you do remember, you won't want to stay with me anymore." It was said so quietly and factually, almost like Hanna's thoughts had become a tangible whisper.

What could he possibly say to convince Hanna otherwise? He didn't want those memories, and he lived a peculiar contradiction every day: he liked it when Hanna gave him a new name, but he worried that someday Hanna really would guess his old name, and then the burdensome past would come back to him. He didn't want it – why wouldn't Hanna believe him?

"That's not true. I've had ten years to realize I don't want that old life; they've moved on, and so have I. I want to protect you."

Hanna stared at him, and Leandro watched as several emotions flitted across his read head's face, but they were too many, too fast to identify.

"And you don't see the point in lying." Hanna murmured, his voice low and perplexed sounding. He turned away to hide his expression.

Hanna moved to leave, and Jerrod quickly followed.

"Let's go check on Kasa." Hanna said, exiting the apartment.

Rick felt his un-beating heart sear in pain as it was ripped apart. _Kasa. He wants to check on Kasa._ The unfamiliar feeling of hatred and bitterness swept through him. _I shouldn't get so upset; we're just friends._

The walk to Worth's clinic was awkwardly slow and silent. It was as if they had simply switched an old problem for a new one.

But the moment they entered, Hanna's countenance swiftly changed.

He bounced inside, "Worth!" he shouted, sounding happy, "How's Kasa?"

"In here." Came the muffled, grouchy sounding reply.

Hanna and Winford entered the only examination room.

Kasa was asleep on the table, and Worth had produced a pillow and blanket from somewhere. As they watched, a spider crawled across Kasa's face and up into her hair.

"Hanna, you didn't mention she's a jorogumo." Worth muttered accusingly.

"Does it make a difference?" Hanna asked, sounding ready to defend her. Yong felt the jealousy tear through him; Hanna defended him against the rude, staring people, but now he was not the sole recipient of Hanna's defense.

"Hell yes. Ya know they've a reputation for _eating_ people."

"Well she won't." Hanna stated it like it was an absolute fact. Then added, mostly for Kenneth's benefit, "I trust her."

Worth picked up on the tense hostility between the two. He turned his smoldering glare onto Lavern.

"I thought I told ya to fuck and make up." He snarled at the zombie.

Hanna went beat red in zero to half a second. "W-w-when did you say that?" he gasped.

"After you fainted like a goddamn fairy princess _again_."

"But that wasn't Reginald's fault!" Hanna exclaimed; Clarence could've purred, he was so inwardly pleased that Hanna was defending him once more.

Hanna shrunk under Worth's angry stare. "Sorry! I'll try to not overdo it next time!"

Worth 'hmphd', and a stirring noise behind them reminded them of Kasa's presence.

She had blearily sat up, and she looked much healthier and even more beautiful.

"Hanna." She said simply, infusing the greeting with warmth and adoration.

Edison hated it. He hated her. Hanna was _his!_… friend. Hanna was his _friend_.

"Hey, Kasa." Hanna quickly stood beside her, beaming at her. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks to Mister Worth and you. We are very grateful."

"No problem! So do you have any new friends?"

She smiled again – and it was staggeringly beautiful, but edgy in a dangerous sort of way. Ike wondered what a jorogumo was, and what Worth had meant by 'eating people'.

She held out a hand, and it was full of small, mostly gray spiders. "We have a family again." She yawned, and the spiders happily scuttled up into her long, black hair.

"I'm happy for you, but you should get some rest." Hanna paused, then added, "Ya'know you can sleep in your true form here, if it helps you. We won't freak out or anything. Right, Worth?" Hanna sent a little glare over at the blonde. Jacinto found it adorable.

Kasa hesitated, looked extremely uncertain, _blushed_, then finally asked, "Will you stay with us till we fall asleep?"

Hanna looked surprised but otherwise oblivious. "Sure, if it'll help."

Her smile was beautiful, "It would."

Hanna pulled up a dangerous, falling-apart metal chair, but offered it to Landon instead.

_Take that, Kasa, he didn't offer you a chair!_ Cory was shocked by the viscous and jealous thought. Where on earth had that come from…and why was it so instinctive to be jealous over Hanna…?

"I'm good with the floor." Hanna said, and sat down next to the chair which Orville carefully entrusted his weight with.

Worth left with a parting grumble, lighting a cigarette.

Kasa glanced at the zombie nervously.

"S'Okay, you can trust us." Hanna assured.

She nodded, and in an instant the image of the beautiful maiden blinked out of existence.

Instead, there was an enormous, St. Bernard-sized spider in her place. She was solid black, and fuzzy.. She had nine large, liquid black eyes, and big, threatening pincers. She was not as bulky as a tarantula, but she was not a gossamer thin spider either. Nigel decided that she was terrifying. Hanna decided otherwise.

"A jorogumo is a spider that's lived for over four hundred years and acquired magical powers." Hanna explained, watching Kasa watch them.

She carefully folded her eight legs around her and settled down. Her nine eyes stared at them.

"Ah, may I?" Hanna asked, and he scooted closer to her, gesturing at her nearest foreleg.

Her liquid eyes blinked, but she remained perfectly still.

Hanna took that as a 'yes', and so reached out a hand and felt the fuzzy leg. It was surprisingly sticky, actually, and Hanna imagined her crawling up the ceiling easily.

After a few moments Hanna returned to his zombie's side, looking happy.

"This is so cool." Hanna murmured. "Wow. Just awesome."

Jealousy spiked through Pedro again, and he wondered where the intense emotion came from. Was it normal for best friends to be so jealous and possessive?

All was forgiven when Hanna pulled out a packet of origami squares from his sweater's pocket and opened it, passing a cheerful yellow-sunshine square to Aiden to fold.

As they folded cranes, the gentle whispers of folding paper lulled Kasa to sleep.

Kasa couldn't believe that this was happening. She had been rescued, forgiven by one of them, and even given a family and medical attention. It was more than she deserved. And it was all thanks to the one who had forgiven her, Hanna. She had never met another being like him. But she knew eventually he would have questions, and she worried that her answers would not suffice.

But for now her savior was sitting in front of her. His presence made her feel safer than she had ever felt in the last hundred years.

One by one, her glossy black eyes closed. Her breathing evened, and before long she was in a comfortable sleep.

"C'mon, let's go." Hanna whispered.

They exited the clinic quietly.

It was late evening now, and the dark, cool alley was a welcome contrast to the sharp and dirty light of the clinic.

Hanna's voice was resigned when he muttered resolutely, "Let's go to Tibenoch's."

* * *

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone!

**I have a little story to share, if you'd like to hear it:** I tried watching the musical "RENT" with my parents. I had no idea what it was about, and although I loved it, I think it totally freaked my parents out. Probably not the best movie to watch on Christmas Eve. Now I don't even want to watch "Glee" (the TV series) with them because I'm worried about how they'll react to my favorite character: Kurt. Kurt is gay-and-proud-of-it. This would probably freak my parents out. Although my mom didn't flip out when I hesitantly told her that Dumbledore was gay. My parents cannot ever know of my secret yaoi-fangirlness. **Any sympathy or advice out there?**

[But enough about me.]

[insert sincerest wish for holiday joy, peace, and love here]

{Merry Christmas}


	10. Foreground: Chasing Cars

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and favorites - it encouraged me to read them; if only I wasn't so goshdarn busy all the time. Thankyou, and please continue to send me your thoughts and criticisms!

Sorry for the lateness and the shortness!

Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name belongs to the fantasmic, the extaordinary, the divine Tessa Stone. Totally not me.

* * *

They found themselves once more approaching the abused looking house. Mr. Tibenoch's old, black car was parked out front.

This time Hanna knocked on the front door, guilt and anxiety churning away in his stomach. Tiberius' presence was both a gift and a curse; he felt protected with his zombie nearby, but also extremely jittery.

And then there was the regret and guilt weighing him down like a lead balloon.

Mr. Cinders had run a tidy prison-hospital. Paranormal creatures go in, but some of them did not come out. Hanna assumed Cinders was a collector of the supernatural, attempting to gain power and knowledge from observing or experimenting on them.

Hanna knew, without a doubt, that Mr. Cinders could have beaten him and killed him if he hadn't used his own unstable powers. They were something that not even Cinders could possible foresee.

He thought he'd done what was right; Hanna had freed those still alive, and evaporated all that was left. No loose ends, no bodies that could come back to haunt him.

But the four human corpses they found…Hanna was fairly convinced that Mr. Cinders had promised to bring them back to life. He thought of their still hoping families; what their expressions would be when all they found of Cinders' house was a crater, and the body of their loved-one gone forever.

Hanna knew that resurrections were point-blank taboo. Bringing people back was extremely dangerous. The consequences for failure, and even success, were usually fatal. He was thankful Mrs. Galen had interrupted his own vain attempt at –

Hanna ended the thought before it could progress any further.

Mr. Tibenoch opened the front door, and upon realizing it was that kid from earlier, sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you insist on annoying me, young man? I thought I made it abundantly clear that I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Mr. Tibenoch, I have bad news." Hanna's voice was solemn. "May I please come in? It's not something to be talked about in doorways."

Mr. Tibenoch shifted his irritated glare from Hanna to the red head's companion.

He recoiled in surprise at the sight of the zombie.

"Very well." He muttered, still sounding extremely reluctant and looking at them suspiciously. Hanna noticed Mr. Tibenoch dart a hand into his vest pocket.

They entered, and Mr. Tibenoch led them to the living room where he sat down and gestured at them to do the same.

"Explain quickly. Please begin with your name, and why you persist in following me."

"I'm Hanna Cross, and this is Meyer." Hanna began, he tried to think of how to carefully explain it. "'Bout a week ago a friend of my client disappeared. We found him: he was murdered, but it was made to look like a suicide. This piece of paper was left at the scene."

Hanna handed it over to Mr. Tibenoch. He also handed over the two gears that had been taped to it. "These were taped onto the front side." He added.

Mr. Tibenoch stared in awe at the note.

_I have a witness _

_2176 Bradford St_

_7pm Fridays _

_tick tock_

He turned it over and recognized the familiar handwriting once more:

_It wasn't his to begin with, come get what is yours, then._

"That handwriting belongs to Mr. Aaron Cinders." Hanna stated the fact. "Mr. Cinders dragged you into this as a stepping stone for me to find him."

Mr. Tibenoch reached into his vest pocket once more, looking more fearful and worried now than ever.

"Mr. Tibenoch, I'm sorry, but Mr. Cinders wasn't going to bring him back."

"That's ridiculous! Of course he is!" Mr. Tibenoch sent a deathly, accusing glare at Hanna, "What have you done?" he demanded.

"I went to Mr. Cinders' _prison_, and I defeated him. Then I destroyed all the evidence."

Tibenoch stared at the red head, looking surprised and infinitely doubtful.

"Those gears," Hanna gestured to the gears he'd handed to Mr. Tibenoch, "were taped to the paper. And they didn't come from your watch, did they? They came from his." Hanna pulled out the pocket watch they'd found in Mr. Cinders' morbid closet.

Mr. Tibenoch gasped and grabbed the watch from Hanna's hands, staring at it in shock.

"This isn't possible. Mr. Cinders would not…this is inconceivable!"

"Mr. Tibenoch, you know that watch better than anyone. Tell me if I'm lying." Hanna solemnly gestured to the gears and the pocket watch.

Mr. Tibenoch only needed to glance at it to confirm its identity. It was eerily silent; he opened its back casing to see the still, lifeless form of the gears inside. There were two gaping holes where the two gears should've been. He deftly fixed the pocket watch by replacing the two gears. But still it would not tick. It was horrifically silent. That meant…

With tear-blurred eyes he removed his own watch from his vest pocket.

It had sounded even more different this last week. He hoped it was a sign that Mr. Cinders was making progress, but apparently not.

And earlier that day his watch had slowed down; its' ticking-tocking noises coming only once every minute or so.

And he knew what that meant…

"Mr. Tibenoch, I'm sorry, but he's gone. I evaporated the entire building; there's nothing left of Mr. Cinders or his victims."

"_Victims?"_ he managed to ask, blinking away tears.

"Mr. Cinders was trying to steal your friend's mastery of time through the watch, but eventually he gave up and was just leading you on. He probably meant to take care of you too when you realized that he couldn't bring your friend back." Hanna took a deep breath, but plunged onwards, "And I know you were keeping your friend's soul and body intact and frozen, but, but I evaporated the body. He's gone, Mr. Tibenoch, he can't be resurrected. And it's time for you to let go."

Mr. Tibenoch stared at Hanna like he was a madman. "You _evaporated_? – you couldn't even let me mourn his body, or a funeral even?" Sorrow mixed with rage as Mr. Tibenoch's glare intensified.

"He was tainted, Mr. Tibenoch, Cinders had corrupted his blood."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I know because I taint my own blood frequently, but because you froze your friend in time, he couldn't recover. He was dead on the inside."

Mr. Tibenoch stared anew at the young man before him. How could he possibly believe everything he'd just been told? And yet…the evidence was resting in his hands.

_His_ pocket watch: silent. His own watch: wearily ticking slower and less frequently. _His_ soul was fading slowly away, and only Mr. Tibenoch's control of time kept its remnants frozen in place.

"Mr. Tibenoch, it's time to let him go."

Hanna's tone made Mr. Tibenoch look up. The red head looked extremely regretful, but also honest and understanding.

So it was over, then. There was no hope left. His beloved had left him behind. Alone, terribly alone, once more.

He clenched his hand around his watch: the ticking stopped. The hands stopped. Unmoving silence. Dead.

"I'm sorry." Hanna apologized, looking somber and genuinely repentant.

"Leave. Get out. Frankly, I've had enough of you." Mr. Tibenoch sent a despairing glare to them both and abruptly pointed towards his front door.

"If you have any questions or need to talk…" Hanna offered, still looking guilty, but he and his zombie exited slowly anyways, hesitantly escaping the sorrowful confines of Mr. Tibenoch's rundown property.

Hanna's depressed stupor set Bud's protective nature into full gear. He had no idea what could be said at this point. And he was always a corpse of few words, so instead he rested an arm around Hanna's shoulders, trying to comfort the young man.

The contact was so platonic and bromantic that Hanna nearly choked on his bittersweet chuckle.

"Heh. This situation is shit. What do you think, Osvaldo? Think I made the right decision to just destroy the whole place?" Hanna questioned drearily, looking hopeless.

Amodias did not like Hanna's melancholy, guilt-ridden expression: not one bit.

"Yes." He assured, "We couldn't just leave that place there for someone else to find."

"I s'pose." Hanna lapsed into silence; the weight of Tone's arm wasn't comforting like it should've been, but suffocating. It was the arm Adelaide had torn off when Hanna had been too much of a coward to use his powers. Just another stupid, easily avoidable mistake resting on his shoulders.

Hanna stopped suddenly, thus swiftly ducking out of Myron's hold, and clenched his fists in front of him. "Okay, enough moping! Everyone makes mistakes – what's important is learning from them! Earthell, what's the moral of this story?"

Jerry faced Hanna, looking perplexed. He thought over the whole terrible incident. Veser and him had been kidnapped; Mr. Hatch had been torn apart by zombies right in front of him; Conrad, Toni, and Worth had taken down a monster through teamwork; Hanna had been stabbed by a sword and miraculously lived; a mysterious white light had suddenly knocked them all unconscious, and although he suspected Hanna was the cause, his friend did not trust him enough to tell him anything. The moral?

"Trust your friends." Marlin finally replied.

Hanna sighed, looking a little less sad, and a little more sheepish. "Yeaahh. S'pose. C'mon, let's get home, I'm exhausted." His question from earlier finally came back to him.

"Oh yeah, Buse, last time on the way back from Tibenoch's I sort of, well, fell-asleep-and-anyways how did I get home that time?"

Snyder turned a warm, concerned orange gaze towards his friend. "I carried you."

"Oh." Pause. "Thanks."

Lester had been carrying him home? And so when he'd achieved that wonderful void of relaxation and safety, that had been because Miguel had been protecting him in his meditation?

Hanna wilted at the implications. So he would never gain that state again unless Enrique was holding him? He might as well give up on that hopeless dream.

With another weary sigh he continued to walk home to a not-really-restorative meditation besides the zombie he loved but would never see him as more than a hyperactive little brother.

_But hey_, Hanna smiled genuinely at the thought, _it could be worse_.

* * *

Wow, I update even less then our beloved Tessa! Please enjoy this short little update.

As a small update on my personal situation, I risked watching Glee with my parents. They were amazing. My mom even said she admired the show because it tackles the tough issue of homosexuality. And then, during the Regionals episode in season one, she asked, "Kurt doesn't have a solo?" I was so proud! It feels good to let my inner Klaine fangirl out a teeny tiny bit around them. I'm relieved that my parents seem to be mildly accepting of both Kurt and Blaine.

Wish me luck on my SAT this weekend!

[insert closing remark here]

{insert plea for faithful reviews here}


	11. Midground: What Is A Man?

Disclaimer: hanna is not a boys name belongs to Ms Stone, long may she continue

* * *

The cemetery.

Hanna's parents were buried there.

Their accident had been unreal, so had the funeral, the Haven for Orphaned Children, and even the next five and a half years of living with Mrs. Galen.

They'd been wonderful, amazing years of learning about himself and the magical power he was capable of possessing. But still, that anything so strange could occur to Hanna, it felt like a dream.

Unsurprisingly there was a large mortuary or funeral home of sorts on the grassy outskirts of the graveyard. They stopped at a visitor's center and obtained a map of the cemetery.

They'd made sure to come in broad daylight at noon so as to not startle any spooks or spirits that might appear at night.

It was the first time fourteen-year-old Hanna had visited his parent's grave since the funeral, which had also been on an uncannily beautiful day. Life didn't stop for death.

They walked quietly, serenely amongst the rows of gravestones. Some were plaques set into the ground, others were cross-shaped, others were rounded or regular rectangles. Some were adorned with flowers and toys, others were bare. Some were made of white stone, others gray.

When they finally stood before Hanna's parents' grave he looked it over. It was a dark plaque set into the ground. Maybe two feet square.

He rubbed a sleeve across his wet eyes and sniffled.

It was his fault, he knew now. If he hadn't been born an Unpredictable – if he hadn't been born at all, they'd still be alive. If his baby sister had been born instead of him, they could've named her Hanna and they would've been happy and alive.

_Here Lies_

_Jonas Falk Cross_

_1957 – 1990_

_Josephine Lilah Cross_

_1955 – 1990_

_And Their Daughter_

Beneath that was an engraving of a butterfly.

All of Hanna's despair and guilt rushed through him and settled like a condemning stone in his stomach. Something had lodged its way into his throat as he sobbed.

But the thought streaked across his young mind like wildfire. _Maybe I can bring them back!_

"Hanna – stop! Remember what I told you, leave the dead in peace! Hanna, do not try to bring them back! Hanna – no – _stop!_" Mrs. Galen's voice turned into a feline hiss.

"Your parent's bodies aren't here anyways!" Mrs. Galen roared.

Hanna was furious and outraged and "You lied! Where are they?! What else have you been hiding from me!?"

The power was uncontrollable, it pushed at Hanna's pathetic fleshy barriers with disdain, then burst through them.

It was indescribably painful. Hanna was on the ground, curled in a fetal position as the cemetery burned white all around him. Agony poured through every vein in his body, he was on fire.

Then, just before unconsciousness claimed his suddenly exhausted mind and body, he heard Mrs. Galen say something, and then he was asleep.

Mrs. Galen quickly looked around. There was no else to have heard Hanna's agonized screams. The dead were not rising from their graves, nor did it appear any of them had turned into ghosts.

It was time to return home, quickly.

* * *

He jolted awake (when had he fallen asleep?) and fell off of whatever it was he had been laying on.

The world was dim and fuzzy all around him, he couldn't see, couldn't think, but he shakily pushed himself up onto his knees.

Wherever he was, it was dark and cold and he didn't like it.

He stood up, but his hand brushed against cold flesh and he quickly retracted it.

His first instinct was to escape this place. A task not easily done as his vision was fuzzy and dark. He could barely discern shapes in the shadows. Time to find a door.

He stumbled about, knocking into tables and cupboards, things clattered to the ground all around him.

His hand finally landed on a flat, smooth, cold plane. He felt around it until he came upon a door knob, twisted it – thank goodness it's not locked from the inside – and only felt a whoosh of air as he came across some new area.

His vision would not focus, it was dark and artificial in the narrow space he had stumbled into.

But there, up ahead, was a shaft of sunlight spilling in through what must be a little window.

He rushed towards it – was it a door? – he felt for a handle, yes!, yes it was!

He threw himself outside of the cold, unknown place and into what he assumed was the outside world. The wind on his skin and the sunlight were comforting, but still he could not focus or truly see anything around him.

He staggered outdoors, now suddenly anxious because there were no walls to lean himself against, to guide him.

He came across what felt like a metal fence, and he followed it for a long time, before it finally ended.

He wandered out through this gap in the fence, unseeing of what surrounded him.

He thought he was walking on grass, and the familiar (but how? I don't understand what's going on) _whoosh_ of what was probably cars blurred past him.

Time slipped by like smoke through his hands, which he still could not focus on.

Besides what was wrong with his eyes, something was wrong with his head. He couldn't think, or feel anything more than confused panic, and he couldn't concentrate or make a coherent question. Everything blended and blurred until many, many hours past. Or maybe he just blinked and was now suddenly awake.

He was standing, leaning against a wooden fence covered in graffiti. The grain of the wood and the pixels of paint came into focus. The blur cleared – he could tentatively read the spray painted words.

He placed his back against the reassuring wall, then looked around him, and for the first time actually saw that he was in a rundown part of a city.

It was startlingly real. The sky above was darkening into smoggy blue. The asphalt beneath his feet was pocked and old and covered with torn magazines and newspapers blowing in a warm, acidic wind.

Street lamps flickered on and he felt like he should be surprised, but the emotion itself would not come to him.

A car rolled past, and this time he could actually see it!

Finally, he dared to look at his own hands.

Green.

_Green._

He rubbed his fingers together – there was some sort of filmy stuff coating him that he hadn't noticed before.

He looked down at himself.

Gray jeans, orange shirt rolled up to his forearms, loose black tie, orange shoes, black overcoat.

He reached a hand up to his hair: short, but with weird tufts poking up out of the sides. He tried to smooth them down, but they would not budge from their vertical position.

_Mirror._

He genuinely wandered now, soaking in the sights of the unknown city. He reached his hands into his black coat's pockets: they were empty. He tried the pockets of his jeans: empty.

He spied a fast food restaurant and discretely entered and went to the men's restroom.

He stared into the mirror.

Green skin, glowing orange eyes, black hair, white tufts of hair shaped like wings.

He frantically pulled off his coat and orange shirt.

The green skin continued. He stared at himself in surprise.

He turned around and felt the shock hit him as if from a great distance.

Terrible, jagged wounds lacerated the middle of his back. But they had been…fixed, sort of. He examined them closely and saw that they had actually been stitched up with thread.

_Who injured me, and why? And who stitched me up?_

A terrible suspicion started to form in his mind.

He laid two fingers across his neck, and felt for his own pulse. He found none.

Next he laid his hand on his chest, just above his heart: there was no beat. But his chest did rise and fall slightly, which made him start as he hadn't even realized he'd been breathing this whole time.

But now that he was thinking about it, he hadn't blinked once.

So he had no pulse, but he breathed. His skin felt cold beneath his own hand.

_What am I? Who am I? Where am I?_

Suddenly a man and his son entered the restroom. The boy was about seven, and his face contorted into shocked pleasure.

"Look, Dad," he pointed, "A zombie!"

"Err, yes son, but let's not tell your Mom that you saw me playing Left 4 Dead, alright?"

"K!"

The man sent him a small, puzzled look.

"Just checking my make up." He replied. And was that his voice? Is that what he sounded like?

Before anymore could be said he pulled his shirt and coat back on and quickly left.

It was darker outside now, but he didn't feel tired at all.

_Zombie…is that what I am?_

_Why am I not craving brains and internal organs?_

He wandered and wondered.

* * *

Hanna bolted out of his meditation with a gasp.

"_It's OK. I think I'm fairly fresh. Like…only a decade of rot."_

"_Unsurprisingly there was a large and Official Funeral Home on the grassy outskirts of the graveyard…It was the first time fourteen-year-old Hanna had visited his parent's grave since the funeral…"_

_Ten years?!_

"Hanna, are you alright?" Beck's worried voice could not break through his growing panic.

Because _ohmygod _it was so terribly possible! Mrs. Galen had quickly taken Hanna back home to help him! She had only glanced around the cemetery _she never checked that funeral home holy shit holy shit holy shit –_

"Hanna!"

The red head jolted away from his zombie's hands. _Too close – it was all too close and real and _what if I'm right?! _That would mean that _I – that I am the one that _turned Tobias into a zombie – holy shit holy shit –_

_I need to investigate this!_

"Hanna, please, take deep breaths. Hanna!"

Hanna blinked, and suddenly Abergavenny was in front of him. Not too close, though, he noticed.

It was another rare moment where Cade was expressing a lot of emotion. Hanna saw worry, fear, and perhaps even a trace of – but no, Hanna was imagining it.

"Hanna: slow, deep breaths; you're hyperventilating!"

His back was pressed against the wall, his pillow and blanket had been struck off the mattress. And even in his panic-clouded state Hanna checked to make sure his scars were covered up – _all_ of them.

_What if…what if I'm right?_

The thought left Hanna feeling desolate and shell-shocked. His breathing stuttered and halted as cold dread sunk into his stomach and turned his blood to ice.

Was it possible that he had been the one to turn Seacoal into a member of the undead?

_I have to find out as soon as possible._ A plan began to develop in Hanna's mind.

But for now Jachimo was staring at him anxiously, orange eyes ablaze.

A stab of gut-wrenching guilt shot through Hanna. He'd made his beloved zombie worry over him. He couldn't understand – although he never stopped being grateful for Harcourt – why Kent would worry for him. Hanna didn't consider himself worth it.

"I'm okay, Hamlet, just a bad dream." And Hanna smiled and _meant it_ because had a best friend for the first time ever and although Zane would probably never return his romantic feelings having a best friend was something to smile about.

"Are you sure?" Borachio wearily and unhappily asked, constantly keeping his critical stare on the red head.

Hanna ducked around his friend, avoiding eye contact and putting space between them. He needed space, the clarity to think. He busied himself with fixing the bed.

A small shaft of dark blue light from the smallest window Riad had ever seen illuminated Hanna as he rearranged the mattress. Hanna repeated that he was absolutely fine and there was nothing to worry about, seriously.

His shaking voice and hands betrayed him. And Wallenius was sure that if he were to rest a hand over Hanna's heart he would feel it racing beneath his palm. And Hanna was shutting him out. Again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Exeter didn't expect an answer.

He watched Hanna pause and glance at him uncertainly.

"N-no." Hanna was staring at his blanket, not daring to make eye-contact. Another long moment of tense silence passed. "I'm going back to sleep."

Hanna ducked under the blankets and immediately began to plan his next course of action.

Gregor watched the young man wearily for a few long minutes before closing his orange lamp-eyes and letting himself lapse deep in thought.

* * *

{This space left intentionally blank}


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